The Maze Runner Imagines: I TAKE REQUESTS
by nightswitch
Summary: Submit to me your maze runner imagine and I'll write it under this story! Or if you just want to read some, feel free to read these! My favorite ones to write are Newt and Minho, but I'll write anyone in the Maze Runner books for you :)
1. Request Sheet

**_The Maze Runner Imagines_**** Submission Form:**

* * *

Fill this out in the reviews for requesting an imagine.

All imagines will be posted as a chapter in this story.

* * *

Your First Name:

Would You Like Your Name To Be Used Or (Y/N)?:

_EX. "I love you (Y/N)." He breathed out._

_or_

_"I love you Sarah." He breathed out._

Character:

Prompt: 

Details: 

_(optional)_

* * *

I will try and get to them all! It's okay if your prompts are very vague, I can use my creative input! :)

-timelordXatXhearts

(p.s. Newt is my favorite.)


	2. Chapter 1: NEWT

**NEWT**

**Chapter 1:** I Remember You

_For Anna_

* * *

Strong jaw, reckless smile, and blond hair, and all you could think was _"Shit"._

He was just your type.

You brushed off the thought, scolding yourself for thinking of something as silly as that in a moment like this.

You were supposed to fight him.

Minho would've laughed in your face and called you a slinthead if you'd said that aloud.

Quickly shaking your head, focusing, you looked back up, eyes steely and jaw clenched.

You noted that he had nice hair.

_'Dammit.'_ You hissed to yourself again.

The sandy-bronze hair was distracting you from your goal, so you tried to imagine would it look in your fist as you slammed his head into the concrete slabs of the Glade, but every time you tried to picture it, another image came into your mind.

Let's just say you weren't fighting at all.

You quickly looked away, praying he didn't catch your angry flush.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes again, but you didn't have to look at them.

You could feel them on you.

He was staring directly at you, not even blinking.

He could've almost looked scary, menacing even, if it weren't for the happy-grin on his face.

"BEGIN." Alby boomed, crossing his arms and signaling them to begin sparring.

Sparring practice was always your favorite.

You started forward in a brisk walk, giving him some time to meet you in the middle with his limp and all, but some of the confidence you'd worked so hard to muster up flittered away the instant you came within an inch of the boy.

He was taller than you'd previously thought, looming over you and making you feel small in your own skin.

Up close, chest to chest, and all you could do was gulp.

"Spar!" Alby ordered again when you just stood there,

"So you're the Greenie and I'm the Griever?" Newt joked, raising an eyebrow and looking you up and down.

You felt naked, but you wouldn't let him know that.

He had an accent, and from the one part of your brain you didn't understand, something said _"british"_.

He could say "klunk" and make it sound like poetry.

The both of you crouched down and began circling each other.

"Hey Greenie, maybe i'll go easy on yo-"

His words were forced out of him with a grunt as you tackled his stomach.

The both of you hit the floor with a gut-twisting thud.

His jaw went slack and his eyes widened.

You couldn't help but smile at how dumb-founded he looked.

"Nice work, (Y/N)!" You heard Minho shout, cackling and slapping his leg at the sight of Newt pinned underneath you.

A couple of the boys who were working in the farms lifted their heads and stopped to watch.

_'So we have a crowd now?'_

Newt brought his lips to your ear slowly and for a second you forgot to breathe.

"You can get off now." He whispered, but not unkindly. His voice was breathy and deep.

You realized you were still sitting on his chest, legs straddled around his abdomen, so you pushed yourself up and off.

Part of you want to babble a passive "sorry" or something of that nature, but then a feeling of delirious, random bliss came over you.

And for a second you forgot you were in the maze.

"The big bad Griever isn't so scary now, is he?" You taunted, walking away and sarcastically pouting.

The boys watching "oohed" and you could hear your friend Teresa cheering for you within the crowd.

Even the sulky Gally, tilted his head your way, pretending not to care.

For some reason it just felt so comfortable and natural being around Newt.

The shocked look on his face grew into a wild grin.

"Oh, you're in for it now Greenie!"

The image of you two making out flashed in your mind again, and you willed it away.

You had a scrape on your cheek and he had a scuff on his jawline, but when he got up for another round, you were both smiling.

He was slightly sweaty, but a little part of you found that hot.

And so the game began again: circling, crouching, watching every movement in the other person's body.

Only this time you had a crowd.

Then he began to lurch forward.

You lifted your forearms to defend yourself when everything stopped at once.

Newt skidded to a halt, mid-air, and backed away, staring at you with a look of terrible realization plastered on his face.

This was your chance.

You quickly dropped low to the floor, hugging the ground on one side and swinging your legs hard, bringing his out from underneath him.

The Glader boys went mad, shouting and jumping up and down, and even Alby was slow clapping for you with a thin, small smile spreading on his face.

"Oof!"

Newt stumbled to the floor, barely stopping himself from kissing the ground with his hands.

The were covered in little white scars.

You expected him to be smiling like last time, but he's still gaping at the floor, his gaze unwavering.

Now you were worried.

What had come over him?

One boy put a hand on your shoulder, saying something along the lines of "Congratulations!", but you're already shaking him off, ignoring him, only having eyes for Newt.

You knelt down next to Newt, combing a hair behind your ear and bending down to see his face.

With shaking wrists he lifted himself up into a sitting position.

Alby noticed something was going on and started ushering everyone away.

"Back to work, ya shuck-faces! Nothing to see here!"

"Newt…" You whispered softly, your voice feeling small. "What's wron-"

But when you reached out towards him, he panickedly scrambled backwards with his hands and feet.

"I remember you…" He murmured, voice hushed.

There was no doubt in his tone.

Your face turned just as white as his.

"No…." You said, more to yourself than him.

"Yes. Y-Yes I do, I do..." He stammered, scooting closer and nodding.

His shirt had dropped down and his clavicle was showing, so you just stared at that instead of his face.

This couldn't be happening. It was impossible.

Right?

You looked at the ground with disbelief, but when you turned his face was full of plea, just begging you to remember too.

You wanted to so badly.

"I-….I'm sorry, Newt-"

"(Y/N)..." He cut you off in a tone that said _'please, no'._

You flinched at the way he said your name, full of anguish.

"- I just don't remember."

He let out a big sigh of air, and then reluctantly nodded, trying to understand. But his eyes looked so sad.

You hated WICKED for robbing you of your memories, robbing you of him.

You reached out a shaky hand to comfort him, and the second your fingertips brushed his knuckles it was like something electrocuted you both.

Bolts of throbbing energy sent the image into your mind, only it was vividly intense now. You could hear the sound of his breath, you could feel it, hot and choppy on your neck.

_You saw Newt's body pressed against yours, his hands rucking up your shirt and you moaning underneath his lips-_

You jerked away from his touch before the image could go any further.

Even though neither of you were actually making out, both of you were panting, breathy ragged and heavy now.

You looked over to Newt, who was sweating and clutching his chest for air.

"Shuck…" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"You… You saw that to?" You looked over to the boy with incredulity.

He glanced at you too, nodding, before looking back at the ground. You couldn't tell whether he was embarrassed or not, but you were positive that your face was currently rosy and burning.

"I kept on seeing it earlier too," He admitted, "But I just thought it was like hormones or something."

You chuckled silently. Of course he'd think that.

"I saw it too," You said, hesitantly sitting closer to him, "So you think it's a memory? You think that before the world went to klunk, we… we were…." You were afraid to say the last part.

He let out a choked _'oh my god'_ kind of laugh, and rubbed at his eyes.

You became increasingly aware of the fact that your hand was in his, and you told yourself to pull it away, but he squeezes it a little and it feels so right.

_'This how it's supposed to be.' _

The doors were closing and the gradient sun-kissed sky was transcending into a gritty navy.

"Do you think we'll be able to remember anything else?" He asked, the question sounding unsure on his tongue.

And you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

You tried not to smile, letting him think that he was totally being smooth about this.

"Yeah," You agreed, "But how would we get any of the memories to come up?"

You already knew the answer to this one too, but you just wanted to hear him say it, hear the words roll off his tongue.

"I have a couple ideas." He said nonchalantly, but as you glanced over to the boy sitting beside you, you could tell he was trying not to smile too.

* * *

A few seconds ago you were trying to pummel this guy into the concrete, and next thing you knew, the two of you were hand in hand, running to the boys restroom, and stifling giggles like little kids doing doing something extremely naughty.

Well, what you guys had planned on doing wasn't exactly appropriate.

When the two of you finally stumbled into the restroom, all of the stalls open and empty, Newt guided you gently to the nearest wall.

You grinned.

"This is all for the memories right? For the good of the Glade?" You asked mischievously.

"Totally." He panted, his voice was deep and rugged, "For the good of the Glade. This one's for you, Alby."

He leaned in with the sides of your face cupped in his hands and cheekily brushed his lips against yours, barely touching.

You laughed and playfully pushed him away, titling your head back on the cool tile wall of the restroom,

He was gazing longingly at your neck and you knew he wanted to kiss it.

"Enough games, it's time to get some memories." His tone was serious, but he was grinning.

You nodded and then stepped forward in between his legs.

"We have to make it as much like the vision as possible." He explained, calmly.

You forgot he could be like this, so take-charge. In leader mode he was absolutely ravishing.

"Okay…" You sighed, biting your lip hard.

He timidly placed his arms around your waist, barely touching you, making sure this was okay.

And it was more than okay for you.

After seeing you nod, his grip firmed. The both of you were already breathing heavy and you haven't even touched each other yet.

"So…" He said in a voice that was barely audible, "I think my hands were here."

You felt something warm and heavy on your lower back and another hand grasp the back of your neck.

You shuddered.

He was so excruciatingly close.

"And I was here." You whispered, leaning back on the wall and pulling him by the belt-loops so that he was pushing you against it.

You raised a shaky hand to run through his hair, remembering the memory, and he clenched his eyes shut tight, basking in the feeling and letting out an involuntary whimper.

There was a burning hot pressure in your lower stomach, willing you to press you body up against his, but you ignored it.

You needed to get some answers, some memories.

You had to follow the memory, follow the rules despite how much you wanted to break them.

"And then-" He choked out softly, chest heaving, "I kissed your neck…"

He pressed his gentle lips lazily on your neck, leaving a trail of warm.

"Then…" You murmured, struggling to gain some composure and not melt underneath his touch, "Then I took off your shirt."

You brought your hands to the hem of his shirt and moved the flat of your palm against his abs as you lifted it.

Once it was off, he brought you into a tight, embrace.

You didn't remember a hug in the memory, but you didn't mind improvising a little.

You were surprised at how gentle he was with you; every touch was a caress rather than the frantic grabbing it was in your memory.

Part of you was glad he was going slow and being patient with you, but the other part of you was frustrated.

His hands were painfully slow, and it was almost as if he was taunting you.

"You're such a tease." You growled under your breath and you felt his lips smile on your clavicle.

Then there it was, completely consuming you.

_A memory. A vision of silver, white lab coats, the smell of cold. _

You gasped aloud and Newt stopped, grabbing the sides of you face and looking at you with concern.

"No, no!" You begged, crashing into his lips hungrily and placing his hands on your hips again.

You pulled apart for a brief second just to say, "It's working."

His eyes got wide and then he smiled, continuing where the both of you left off, only more excitedly, more motivated.

Your lips were desperately craving his.

His hand squeezed your backside and you gasped as another memory popped into your mind.

_Six letters: "WICKED"._

"Keep going." You ordered, lifting your legs and letting him pin you harder against the wall. It was electric, radioactive, unstable, whatever you want to call it, Newt's body on yours was nothing like you've ever felt before.

Just as he began rucking up your shirt, you drew another sharp breath.

This time the memory was longer.

_A short, mostly-bald man with a squished face and only a few orangish wisps of hair on his head leaned in, looking down on you like one would a specimen underneath a microscope. You tried to lift your hands, but felt the friction of rubber restraints burn on your wrists._

_"It's time for another injection, (Y/N)." He grinned, but instead of feeling comforted by it, you felt terrified. His eyes were a hollow, empty, blue and the smile was twitching, almost crazed. It was unsettling. Then, he-_

You pushed Newt off of you all at once, and at first he looked hurt and confused, then, realizing what was going on, he placed his hands on your shoulders.

He shook you gently, but the images kept flooding your brain, like a stream that couldn't be stopped. The dam had broken and there was nothing holding back the past now.

"No! No!" You shouted, shaking your head into your hands. Newt quickly pressed small, comforting kisses to your forehead and whispered "Shhhh, shh.." But the visions were everywhere, consuming you.

You looked at him pleadingly, but then his face was engulfed completely by a memory, then another and another.

You crumpled into a heap, caving in on yourself and slumping into the wall.

Even with burying your face into your hands, your eyes were still wide open. You'd seen it all now.

All you could do was say, "Newt…" meekly.

When it was over and you'd stopped violently shivering, Newt gave you his shirt to put on over your own.

Newt lifted you into his arms like a child and you curled into a ball, draping an arm around his neck and listening the the consistent thrumming of his heartbeat.

"I know how to get out of the maze…" You whispered, your gaze distant and eyes glazed over and tired.

"Shhh…" He kissed the top of your head and began to walk towards the Homestead where the rest of the boys were sleeping. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N), i never meant for this to happen." His voice sounded humiliated and pained, the thought of hurting you was just too much.

You lifted your neck to see his face.

"You didn't break me Newt," You say reassuringly, but what you said next isn't very soothing at all, "I was already broken. We all are, we just forgot."

"I can fix you…" He said it like a promise. "I love you." That sounded a lot like a promise too.

He pressed his lips to your forehead one last time and the last drop of memory slipped into your mind.

_It was a sunny day and breeze felt like a cool kiss on your neck. _

_Newt was there, he was wearing a green color and his signature smirk and all was well._

When the warm memory ended you smiled.

A light went on in the Homestead and you heard a voice that sounded a lot like Minho's call out "What in shuck's sake…"

Soon Alby, Minho, and a med-jack were all jogging out to you and Newt, and Alby was pulling you into the MedJack's arms.

The moment you were pulled away from Newt's bare, warm-blooded chest you were freezing.

The Med-Jack laid you down not-so-gently on a stretcher he'd put on the floor and checked your pulse.

"What the shuck happened Newt! Why is she crying and why are you shirtless?!" Minho shouted, eyes still groggy and with a bed-head.

_'I'm not crying.'_ You thought angrily, but kept it to yourself for the simple fact that you were too exhausted to care.

Some of the other boys were waking up and clambering over the sleeping bags to see what was going on.

"Yeah, you shank, what happened?!" Alby added, giving Minho a look that said _"slim it"_.

Newt sighed and gave you a worried look, wondering if he should tell them.

You spoke for him. "Newt did something to me, nothing bad. He-..uh, helped me remember. I know how to get out of the maze."

Minho looked skeptical, Alby looked thrilled, and Newt just beamed at you like you were a miracle.

All the bad memories were out now, only good ones remained: only Newt.

Ignoring the Med-Jack's instructions, you shakily stood up and took your place beside Newt.

No one noticed when he slipped his hand into yours and pecked you on the cheek. A wave of warmth flooded through you.

"Well whatever you did Newt," Minho said, "You're gonna have to do it again. We need as much information about The Creators as possible."

Newt turned to you knowingly and smiled.

A blush crept onto your face and Minho looked flat out confused.

"Anytime."

Newt winked.

"You guys are weird..." Minho snapped, squinting at the both of you.

Newt raised a finger to his lips and you let out a little laugh.

* * *

**(A/N: First chapter is finally up! Sorry if it's a bit rusty Anna, but I had a really fun time writing it!**

**It got a bit serious in the middle, but i wanted to add a little plot.**

**Also I do AU's too! (As long as they're Maze Runner imagine AU's...)**

**Tell me what you thought of it! I look forward to writing more!**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	3. Chapter 2: MINHO

**MINHO**

**Chapter 2: **I Hate You Too

_For Rose_

* * *

"Minho!" You yelled angrily, ignoring the other boys who were looking your way and storming past.

You didn't care anymore, let them look so they can witness Minho's brutal murder.

Minho only backpedaled, not stopping to speak to you, with a snide smirk on his face.

"Hey, you're cute when you're angry-"

"This isn't funny!" You cut him off, your face further reddening.

Yup, you'd gotten the entire Glade's attention.

Minho's grin only widened when he saw Newt hobbling over with a serious, protective-older-brother look on his face.

"What's going on here?!" Newt demanded, standing by your side.

You kind of wanted to tell him that you could fight your own battles, but watching Minho getting grilled by Newt was just too good.

Minho groaned and then pouted, almost comically.

"Well, go on," He urged, "Tell him, (Y/N). Tell the entire Glade!" Minho motioned to the small group of boys that had accumulated behind him, all of which you knew would kill for you.

Your throat got tight and you bit down hard on your bottom lip.

Glaring at him angrily, all you could think was, _'Why me?' _

He'd been picking on you since the day you popped out of the wretched Box.

Aren't attractive people supposed to be nice?

Well- not that you thought he was… Well…

Newt broke you out of your daze with a hand on your shoulder and a quiet, "What did that shuck face do? You can tell me…"

You couldn't look at Newt, or at anyone for the matter.

You just wanted to run away.

"He took one of my bras." You breathed out at last, quickly and angrily.

All at once the Glade erupted with laughter and even with some whoops from the more unruly boys.

You buried your face in your hands, but not before you caught Minho pulling your bright-crimson bra out of his front pocket and moving it to his back pocket for all the Gladers to see.

"Quiet! Quiet down ya slintheads! If anyone utters so much as a sissy giggle I'll throw you in the Maze myself!" Newt shouted.

The whoops and hollers died down into snickers and whispers of "Way to go Minho!".

Newt always tried his best to protect you since you were the only girl in the Glade.

He mostly wanted to shield you from punk boys.

Punk boys meaning Minho.

Minho was still receiving high-fives and smiling wide, but when Newt turned to him, he stumbled backwards a little, smile dying.

"Give it to her." Newt ordered, raising his eyebrows and motioning to you.

You put your hands on your hips, pleased to see Minho following orders.

But something felt terribly wrong when Minho began to raise his hands in surrender and grin.

_'What is he up to?'_

"If she want's it," He said to Newt, "She can come and get it." Then he turned to you and stared, challengingly.

Your eyes widened, realizing it was in his back pocket and you froze. Your heart sank fast like a stone falling in water.

Minho smiled, his eyes dropping down a bit to meet your eyes (he was about a head taller).

"Come on baby girl, I don't bite."

He winked.

_'Minho you asshole.' _

Groaning, you crossed your arms across your chest.

_'Fine.'_ You mentally sighed to yourself and walked over to him.

When you were close enough to hear him breathing, almost touching his chest, you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Your heart was hammering so hard against your ribcage, you could feel it in your ears.

He bit the tip of his tongue testily.

"Be gentle-"

With a sharp intake of breath, he jumped a little as you shoved your hand into his back pocket.

He hadn't expected you to be that confident.

And there was your heart, pitter pattering again.

When you backed away from the boy, his expression looked soft and dumb-founded and you found your gaze had fallen to his lips.

Quickly, you looked away.

_'You hate Minho. You hate Minho.'_ You told yourself, but the more you repeated it, the more it sounded like a lie.

It was easy to confuse burning hatred with burning passion.

Before any of the boys surrounding you could catch you lingering, you jammed the bra into the pocket of your pants and sped-walked over to the Deadheads, eager to get away from all those eyes.

* * *

"This can't be happening." You muttered to yourself deliriously, shaking your head in your hands.

You had your elbows on your knees and were sitting on a bench in the deepest part of the graveyard.

You knew no one would follow you, the Deadheads gave all the boys "the creeps".

But not you. You'd seen too many people die to believe in ghosts.

When you first heard the stifled murmurs, you thought it was your own mind, but then you heard the rustling crunch of leaves underfoot.

Your head darted up and you sat up straight. Goosebumps trailed along your spine and suddenly you felt a breeze.

The sun was just starting to go down and the doors would be rumbling shut soon.

"Who's there?" You said aloud, and then you realized you sounded like an idiot.

That's what all the people said in horror movies before they died.

To answer your question, three boys ducked under a low-hanging branch and treaded into your clearing.

You instinctually took a step back. You didn't like something in their demeanor.

"What do you want?!" You asked, only with more steel to your voice.

The boys were all blonde and acne-ridden, only with drastically differing heights.

"Tell her, Robb." The short, chubby one said to the medium-height one, his voice sounding blubbery through two fat, saliva-filled cheeks.

"Yeah, tell her Robb!" The tallest, gangly one said more enthusiastically, in a croaky, nasally voice, nodding all the while.

You frowned, looking to the medium one for some answers.

You were clenching your hand into a fist so hard that your knuckles were whitening and trembling.

"Well," The middle one stepped forward with a smile that made your stomach clench, "You're the only girl here and you gave that Minho a little souvenir of yours, so why don't we get a little something-something?" His teeth were crooked and jutted out onto his bottom lip, and he looked at you like how someone would stare a steak.

"You don't deserve anything from me. So go away." Although the last past sounded tougher in your head, your tone was firm and uncompromising.

_'Good._' You thought, proud of yourself.

But the boy kept advancing, his stench overwhelming you. The other two followed, grinning at each other.

You tried to step backwards, but stumbled over a branch and got greeted to the floor with several sharp splints of bark digging into your forearms.

You weren't scared at all before, but falling down when you were already on-edge sent a wave of panic through you.

_'Yell "help", yell for help.'_ You screamed at yourself, but other words were leaving your lips before you'd even thought about the consequences.

"MINHO!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, not in terror, but completely calm; as if you were yelling for him to pass you a water bottle or you where chasing him across the Glade because he stole your bra again.

Nonetheless, he was there in a blink, panting like he'd sprinted all the way here just at the sound of your voice.

He crouched next to you with a gentle hand place on your kneecap, but his eyes were terrifying, you would've been scared, but he wasn't looking at you.

If looks could kill, those boys would be dead.

"Listen, slintheads. I count to two and if your sorry asses aren't out of the Deadheads— out of the shucking Glade— by then, I'll put you in the ground next to my good ol' shank Ben. Got it." There was none of his usual humor in his voice.

The boys' faces went white as a sheet and all at once they fumbled over a log, bolting out of the clearing on all fours and pushing each other out of the way.

You smiled at that, but Minho was already lifting you up by the shoulders.

He placed you inches away from his face and his hands were shaking.

"Are you okay?"

You shook him away, irritated, pushing his chest back.

"Yeah, yeah, get off… I'm fine, it's no big deal…"

You rubbed at the nape of your neck, ready for him to call you a slinthead.

But instead he let out a big breath of air, with his hands on his knees.

"What the shuck do you mean by 'no big deal'?! I was worried about you…"

"It WAS no big deal! They never posed a threat, you've seen me out in the Maze, i'm perfectly capabl-" You choked on your words and stopped ranting on, catching the last past of what he said.

"Wait," You began slowly, finally looking him in the eyes, he immediately turned away, realizing he was caught. "Why were you worried about me?"

You felt like you should be laughing about this, but the thought only made you even more infuriated.

"Well why did you call for _me_?" He retorted, staring at the ground rather than your face.

But you weren't having it.

You jerked hard on his arm and forced him to face you.

"But you hate me." You stated, unsure of everything right now.

He scoffed at that, and the sound was sad in his throat.

"You think that?" He looked vulnerable enough, and you wished you could sympathize with him, but you were too angry.

"What do you mean i 'think' that?! You steal my bras, push me down, and call me a slinthead."

He shook his head off into the distance.

"Listen, forget it."

_'No, i don't want to.'_ You thought frustratedly, but instead decided to slim it, at least for tonight.

There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke again. You hated that he wouldn't look at you, as if afraid he'd say something stupid at the sight of your face.

"You need to stay with me tonight."

Now that shocked you.

You gave him a look of incredulity, but he wasn't smiling.

"It isn't safe for you. Boys are stupid." He said flatly.

And he had a good point.

"You're a boy." You countered, but followed beside him out of the Deadheads nonetheless.

Again, he only stared forward. You had a feeling Minho wasn't good with dealing with his emotions.

"But I'm not like them, I won't hurt you." His voice got very quiet just then.

* * *

"Whelp." Minho announced, motioning to his little corner in the Homestead. There was only one cobalt blue, flattened-out sleeping bag.

"This is my place. Make yourself comfortable…" He trailed off awkwardly.

"Thanks." You murmured, waiting for him to settle down in his sleeping bag.

When you didn't move he glanced up at you, tilting his head, confused.

"Well?" He asked, lifting his arm and scooting to the side.

_'Oh god.'_ You realized. _'He wants me to sleep with him.' _

Then he looked embarrassed, blushing a little and his gaze faltering.

"Oh.. sorry, it's stupid- It's just there was only one sleeping bag so i thought…"

"No!" You interjected quickly, "It's okay..."

You slipped into the cozy sleeping bag and turned your back to him.

It was surprisingly spacious in there, but you pressed your back against his chest nonetheless.

You'd never been so confused in your life.

Then he had to further bewilder you and put a sleep-heavy arm around your waist to hug you closer.

You wanted to hate him, but he was so big and warm and muscular and you felt so safe when all you could sense was him pressed up against your backside.

Then you felt him rustle around in the dark and lean over to press his lips softly on your temple.

He didn't say anything when he laid back down, but you felt him sigh like he was relieved to finally do that.

You wondered if he was thinking of kissing you from the moment he saw you.

"You're still a slinthead." You whispered to him after while, nuzzling into his arms.

He chuckled, deep and throaty, and responded with, "And I'm still going to steal your bras, ya shank."

* * *

**(A/N: I hope you liked this one Rose! Minho's such a fun character to write, and the actor who's playing him in the movie is pretty dreamy too!**

**Tell me what you think and keep sending in those reviews.**

**You guys can send in more than one request :)**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	4. ALL (mini-chapter)

**THE GOLDEN TRIO**

**Chapter 2.5: Kisses**

* * *

How He Kisses You:

Thomas-

Thomas is a little timid at first, afraid to do something wrong, but once your lips meet he's desperately pulling you close, forgetting to breathe and getting lost in your lips.

His mouth is sweet on yours and his hands are firm, but gentle.

Newt-

Although Newt is a total gentlemen in public, when you're making out it's an entirely different story.

Newt has a thing for pushing you against walls and getting his hand underneath your shirt.

He wants to kiss you everywhere, your jawline, neck, clavicle so it feels like your body is on fire in the best kind of way.

When you're with him it's always so intense, with your hands in his hair and him whispering things he shouldn't with a gravelly voice into your ear.

Minho-

Minho is a tough-guy, so he's usually unwilling when it comes to public displays of affection.

But when you're with him alone, he just sort of opens up and when he kisses you, he likes to touch your waist, barely, just the slightest brush of fingers to drive you insane and leave your skin tingling where he touched it.


	5. Chapter 3: NEWT AND MINHO

**NEWT & MINHO**

**Chapter 3:** The Sun and the Stars

_For Lola_

* * *

_"_Say my name and his in the same breath

I dare you to say they taste the same."

_-Fall Out Boy_

* * *

You had always wanted to be a Runner.

Hell, before you'd even known what a Runner was you wanted to get out in that death-labyrinth and find out who you were.

Sometimes it was even less than that, and you just wanted to run.

Run away from everything, run away from yourself until you couldn't run anymore.

But now that your initiation was finally happening, you weren't so keen on the idea.

The glory of being a Runner was dying fast as you sat in front of the Map Room, nibbling on one of Frypan's sandwiches with a heavy blanket of dread draped atop your shoulders and a growing sense of premonition looming over your head. You gave up on attempting to eat, tossing the hardly-eaten sandwich to the side.

"Shuck…." You muttered to yourself, staring blankly at the ground as one would their own gravestone, but you snapped out of your daze when you heard a soft, light-hearted chuckle from behind you.

Newt sat down beside you, with his Runner gear on and his shirt half-unbuttoned.

"How are you holding up, love?"

Newt always called you love, and you didn't mind. If anyone else tried to pin a pet-name on you, you would've knocked the daylights out of them, but he wasn't 'anyone else'.

He was Newt, your Newt.

You laughed dryly, and it almost sounded sarcastic.

"Just dandy."

Your eyes couldn't help but drift to his partially-bare chest. Now that would be a major problem for you, focusing wise.

You sighed, reaching out and buttoning his shirt for him.

Your fingers were trembling by the time you reached the top button.

"There you go." You gulped, gaze flickering up to his eyes.

He was closer than you remembered and he smelt like soap and honey.

Newt sighed and grabbed your hand, stroking it with his thumb. A little shiver went up your spine at his touch. It felt a lot like electricity.

You looked over at him and he was smiling, so you couldn't help and smile back.

He was contagious.

"You'll be fine love, the situation isn't too dire now. You'll be with the best Runner out there." His voice was soothing and made you want to close your eyes.

"Talking about me, Newt?" A snide voice said from behind, making you jump a little and jerk away from Newt as if you were caught doing something bad.

_'Minho.'_ You thought, a little part of yourself sparking up with excitement.

He sat to the right of you and Newt was to the left, and you were surrounded by your two best friends: safe.

"Actually, I was talking about _myself_." Newt retaliated. You scoffed and playfully hit him on the shoulder, but the two boys weren't laughing.

Minho glanced at your hand and saw that Newt was holding it, so he snatched up your other hand.

Newt's jaw tensed and Minho smirked with satisfaction.

_'What's gotten into these two?'_ You wondered, pulling both of your hands away from the boys.

"Greedy." You muttered at them, getting up and making the long tread to the West Door.

You could hear the two scrambling after you, and maybe pushing each other around a little, and you laughed to yourself.

"So which one of you will be my guide?" You asked.

"I will." They both said at the same time.

"Fine, I guess you'll both be my guides. Lucky me." You grumbled.

It wasn't that you minded, it was just they were acting weirdly aggressive around each other lately, especially when you were around.

The closer you got to the great, yawning opening of the Maze the bigger it got, looking down at you and making you feel like an ant.

_'Please don't squish me.'_ You thought, even sounding pathetic in your head.

Soon you heard Minho and Newt jog up on either side of you.

Minho's arm accidentally brushed yours, just barely, but it was good to know he was there.

The Door seemed to be a gaping mouth, beckoning you to run deep into the belly of the Maze, into the belly of the monster-

"(Y/N)." Newt broke you out of your daze and glimpsed down at your shaking hand.

You clenched your fist in an attempt to hide your fear, but that boy saw through you like glass.

"What?" You asked anxiously, maybe speaking a little too quickly.

You always spoke fast when you were nervous, and Newt seemed to notice.

"You don't have to do this." He spoke at last.

You frowned.

_'What the klunk? He knows I've always wanted to be a Runner!' _

Minho stood in front of you, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, this whole Runner business is kind of overrated. You should just work with the Builders or something."

You glanced between the two, dumb-struck.

"Ha-ha-ha. Very funny." You tried, but they still didn't smile.

Since when were they so concerned about your well-being? Well at least they were agreeing on something for once.

When no one said anything, you pushed past the both, but they barely budged.

_'Screw you and your biceps.'_ You hissed to yourself.

Sighing in defeat, you knew you'd have to take the alternative way out.

You stood back and pouted, bringing your hands together.

"Please, Minho! Newt? Pleeeaasseee?"

The instant the whine left your mouth, the boys simultaneously stood back with in-sync groans.

"That's just unfair!" Minho protested, wagging a stern finger at you.

"Oh c'mon, love! Don't do this to me, you're killing me!" Newt got on his knees dramatically, and you laughed.

"So I'm taking that as a yes?"

* * *

Run. Break. Map. Run.

It was an endless cycle, and you tried not to show the boys that you were tired, but the effort of holding back your panting just made you struggle and choke for air even more, desperately gasping and wheezing.

Minho slowed down to be next to you and you gave him a quizzical look.

"Since when does Newt call you 'love'?" He asked, not even breaking a sweat.

_'What kind of question is that?' _

After you didn't answer for a long time, he sped up again, this time running past both you and Newt with only a muttered, "Nevermind. Stupid question."

"Stop." Newt ordered before Minho got far.

Minho turned back to the taller boy irritatedly.

"We need a break." Newt explained.

You tried not to cry with relief.

But Minho took one glance at you and something lit up in his eyes.

"Maybe _you_ need a break, _Newt_, but _I_ can push myself further-"

You rolled your eyes.

"Stop, the both of you. This isn't some competition, and for the record I need a break more than the both of you. So sit. Now."

Your chest was heaving violently, and it was almost hard to sit down slowly, and not just collapse completely.

The other boys looked between each other and sat down on opposite sides of you.

_'Boys with their tempers.'_

You angrily bit into your sandwich, pretending it was both of their heads.

"I'll go check around the corner for any Grievers, so we can settle down." Minho said, when everyone was just staring at the ground.

You nodded, but didn't lift your gaze at all until his back was turned.

You watched Minho round the corner and felt a pang of sadness. He really did care about you, maybe you were being too harsh on the both of them-

"Finally." Newt breathed out, once again pulling you back into reality. He had a habit of doing that. He scooted next to you so that your knees were touching and you were the slightest bit perplexed.

"What do you mean 'finally'?" You asked slowly.

His hand crept onto your thigh and a rush of adrenaline flooded into your veins, willing you to move even closer in front of him, almost on his lap.

_'This is wrong, this is wrong.'_ You told yourself, but it didn't feel wrong, not one bit.

"Well i can't do this in front of Minho." He whispered, and before you could even protest, his lips were moving on yours, hot, soft, and moist and they felt a little bit like heaven.

Then a voice sounded from in front of the both of you and your eyes snapped wide open.

"No, no you can't do that in front of Minho." Minho deadpanned.

A sick feeling of dread crept into your heart like black ink and it felt like a fist was around it squeezing tighter and tighter.

You looked desperately at Minho, but he didn't even see you.

His eyes were boring right through you, burning right through the walls of the Maze and staring right at Newt.

Right when you realized what was about to happen it was too late.

You threw your hands out in attempt to block him, but he was already charging straight for Newt.

"MINHO, NO-"

You gasped on your words as he pummeled into Newt, sending him flying at the Maze wall with a crack and his body limp like a rag doll.

Newt raised a fist and brought it down on Minho's jaw sounding in a dull thud and Minho shouting something about "She doesn't want you!"

You couldn't believe this was happening.

In all of the places they could've decided to be immature, love-sick boys, the Maze was the absolute worst.

And then just when you thought that was the biggest problem, you saw it.

_It._

The gruesome clicking and rolling and squishing of flesh was barely an echo over the boys' shouts.

They were occupied and you were alone.

The Griever came slowly around the corner where the boys were rolling on the floor, taking its time, its claws opening and clamping, opening and clamping as if to demonstrate, _"This is where your neck goes." _

Now you couldn't even hear the clicking and rolling over the sound of your blood pumping in your ears like an aching throb demanding to be heard.

"Minho, Newt…" Your words were a raspy whisper, barely heard by even yourself.

They paid it no attention, but to hell with them.

You weren't about to let your death sentence waltz into your sight without a fight.

You bounded forward, each footstep pounding hard on the ground and sending bolts of pain up your spine and into your brain.

You couldn't help but think, _'Why the shuck am I actively running towards the thing with the sharp pointy death-things?' _

But the decision was already made and you were nearly on the creature.

You leapt over the two boys who were busy rustling on the floor and skirmishing with hurtful punches and even more hurtful words.

In one swift motion you swiped your machete out of your backpack and brought it down hard into the head of the Griever.

After a few inches of flesh, the machete hit metal and the Griever squealed, the most inhuman shrill-shriek a beast could make.

Now that got the boys' attentions.

The Griever withered and spasmed, snaking back behind its corner, damaged and looking like a worm crawling back into its hole.

The boys were up on their feet, racing to defend you, but you raised a hand, exhausted.

Your face had a splash of Griever grime on the cheek, and your muscles felt filled with acid, but you were still able to muster up one last attempt at peace.

"BOTH OF YOU STOP! We're in the middle of a dystopian death trap and you guys are fighting over a girl-"

Minho rushed forward, interrupting you with his hands cupping your face and his lips against yours.

Part of you wanted to kiss back, and you did a little, before you gained control of your senses.

You felt him smile against your lips when your lips moved back against his, and you snapped out of it, slapping him hard across the cheek.

Your hand probably burned more than his face did, but the shock-factor it provided was worth it.

"You shuck-" As your voice raised, Minho began to back away, "-sissy! What did I just say?! I'm the Greenie, you two are the Runners, so start acting like it."

You spat out every word with every ounce of pent-up frustration you had in you.

Without even fully registering their astonished faces, you whirled around and ran as fast as you could for the Glade. It was already getting dark, you had your map, and if you waited one more second you might've actually done something stupid like say sorry or kiss the both of them.

Here the priority was surviving, not living. Sometimes the boys just needed a little reminding.

You heard their footsteps behind you and pushed yourself even further, full-on sprinting away from the two.

With about the twentieth left turn and the fifteenth right, the Western Door was in sight, and you ran through that one too, ignoring Alby who was waiting for you by the opening with his arms crossed.

"Wait!" He called out "How was your first day on the job, (Y/N)?"

Without even taking so much as a sideways glance his way you jerked a thumb behind you at the two boys following.

"Ask them."

Then you ran towards the map room, leaving all of them behind you, and only catching an exclamation from Alby: "Minho?! Why is your face bleeding?"

Your hand still burned where it kissed his face.

Your lips burned too, in the good kind of way.

* * *

The mapping calmed you down, but not nearly enough.

You hated that you loved them almost as much as you hated them.

And right now you hated them a lot.

The map room was a dank, musty smelling room, with only colors of dull-silver, gray, brown, and a nasty off-green.

Newt called it "cozy", you called it "sad".

Soon you heard the small creak of the door, like the cry of a mouse.

You didn't turn around.

A few footsteps: two, maybe three.

Then there were gentle arms tenderly vining around your waist and you knew they belonged to Newt.

Newt's so in-touch with his feelings and Minho just doesn't know what to do with his.

It'd seem like there was no competition, but you and Minho had something no one else in the Glade had.

You were friends before feelings turned into something else.

Also, you found his inexperience endearing.

You sighed deeply, ashamed to be so content in Newt's arms.

"What do you want, Newt." You murmur.

He responds quietly, but his answer echoes through your bones.

"You."

That shouldn't have made you sad, but you let out a choked laugh and it sounded strained and upset, like a cry for help.

You told yourself to stop, but a tear fell onto your map, blotting your name, slowly sinking into the paper and making the corner curl up at the edge.

Then you were crying and you couldn't stop, the sniveling, exasperated kind of crying where you just feel trapped.

Newt realized that he said something wrong and whispered "Shhhh" into your hair, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

But then he was pressing you all over again.

"Do you love me?" He asked, like the answer was so easy, and you couldn't take it.

You wanted to say yes so badly, you felt the word pounding against the sides of your head, and rising up in your throat.

You exhaled and said, just barely, "Go away Newt."

You didn't falter, didn't even flinch, but its still sounded like a lie.

Just as you began to regret it, he pulled away.

You still couldn't face him.

"Doesn't matter." He muttered nonchalantly, but his voice sounded like a slow burning fire. The passion was unmistakable.

"Doesn't matter because I'll love you forever, I can't help it. Even if i didn't want to, even if you don't want me to."

You heard his voice start to get choppy, like someone who was struggling not to sob. "(Y/N), we live in a maze full of monsters, my memories are nonexistent, I don't even know who i am, but i know one thing, there is one thing in this world that i can trust. And its that _i love you_."

Then there was the creak of the door, the brief bar of orange light on the table, and the all too familiar sound of him leaving you.

Utterly alone, you screamed into your hands.

* * *

After a few hours of mapping with a shaky hand and tremoring breath, you'd finally simmered down.

Wiping the red away from your eyes, you stepped outside, the night air hitting you like the smell of roses, or the smell of Newt.

Your legs felt unsure from sitting down for so long.

What had it been? Three, four hours?

It was dark and the doors had long closed.

All the Gladers should have been asleep.

Should have been.

You saw Minho, waiting outside, sitting down and shivering with his elbows on his knees and his eyes looking beyond sleep-deprived and your heart hurt a little.

How long had he been waiting for you?

"Hey sleepyhead." You whispered softly, stroking his hair and poking the half-conscious Minho with your foot.

He jumped a little, and then bolted up.

"Uh-um, hi." He said, a little jittery.

"Hi?" You said it like a question.

He realized you were waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, i was, uh, waiting for you. I had a question I just couldn't sleep on." He elaborated.

You nodded, and couldn't help and recall Newt's question, still unanswered.

The two of you began walking towards the Homestead, and when Minho didn't speak, you nudged him in the shoulder and gave him a smile.

"You gonna ask that question?" You mused, "Or you just gonna stand there looking pretty?"

His face reddened at this and his eyes got wide.

It was funny seeing the tough-guy Minho getting all flustered and fumbling over his words like this.

"It's nothing serious or touchy-feely, none of that shuck." He sputtered, trying to reassure you and looking at his hands, shuffling his feet.

You rested your hands on your hips, waiting for him.

"I was wondering," He asked, and you held your breath, "Who was the better kisser?"

You choked on your spit, coughing.

That was definitely NOT the question you expected.

"I-I uh, I…." You stammered, unable to hold onto a single intelligible word.

A wide grin spread across his face.

"I knew it."

Then he winked and your face burned even brighter.

"No, wait, i never-!" You babbled.

But he was already running off into the Homestead.

Between Newt and Minho you knew you'd never hear the end of this.

* * *

**(A/N: Hey Lola! I really liked your prompt and was thinking of making a Part 2! What do you guys think?**

**So I titled this "The Sun and The Stars" but i'm still not really sure who's the sun and who's the stars? I think I'm gonna go with Newt being the sun and Minho the stars.**

**For the last four days I've been doing a story everyday and hopefully I can keep up this pace, but I'm taking summer school, so don't worry if I don't get to yours right away! I'll get to it eventually. Also I'm choosing which ones I want to write, rather than force-writing every single one badly. **

NOTE!: **Make sure to tell me where you want the imagine to take place, if not i'm just going to assume it's the Maze and I'll make it take place there. **

**Make sure to review (that would seriously make my day)! I love you guys!**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	6. Chapter 4: MINHO (Part 1)

**MINHO **

**Chapter 4:** The One Thing I Remember _(Photographs)_

_For Alexandra_

_ (Prompt: What happens when during the scorch trials, a girl from group B is found and claims to remember Minho?)_

* * *

For hours, days, all you saw was the orange-twinged dust of the desert and the dry-cracked ground underneath you, all beneath the backdrop of the mountains.

Jagged streams of white branching down mountain peaks, stony daggers protruding from veils of gray, white-freckled hills rolling inwards towards the base of the mountain and melting into desert sand, dry wind, that was all you saw and felt for what seemed like an eternity.

The Maze, the gym, life: that was all forever ago.

Then you saw_ him_.

The whispers about "Group A" and "our mission" and even "boy-meat" started between the girls of Group B before you got within 100 yards of the boys.

"HALT." Sonya barked, lifting a freckled arm.

Her voice sounded courser and raspier than usual.

Well, you all could've used some water and some serious moisturizer right then.

The boy you'd seen was just a wavering, unclear figure in the distance.

_'A muscular wavering, unclear figure.'_ You told yourself.

Then you mentally hit yourself.

Geez, when was the last time you'd seen a real life boy who wasn't under the age of 12, over the age of 21, or Aris?

"Sonya," Harriet said just to her, but loud enough for the entire group to hear, "You and (Y/N) approach them alone. Meet the leaders in the middle. Bring light weapons." Harriet turned to you specifically, "_Light_ weapons, (Y/N)."

She emphasized the word "light".

Some girls in the group chortled into their hands.

So what? You had a thing with knives.

You sure as hell were the best one here at using them.

But to reassure your leader you smiled and said "What, for those sticks?! I could bring a toothpick and that'd be enough to kill 'em with!"

The girls roared in agreement, and Harriet gave you a discreet nod.

Sonya grasped your wrist, and pulled you in close.

Her forehead was slick with sweat and her thin white tank top was smudged with dirt, grime, and dried-brown blood in several places, yet she still found the decency to wear the sweet pea perfume she'd picked up at the gym.

This redhead was one tough cookie, despite her lankiness.

"Ready to go, soldier?" Her tone was serious for the most part, but she couldn't help the small grin spreading across her face.

You sheathed your katana blade and saluted her with a wink.

"When you are, Lieutenant."

* * *

The closer you got to the approaching shapes in the desert, the more you wanted to shrink into your skin.

The two boys had broad, sunburnt, dirt-kissed shoulders and ripped muscles.

Well, you and Sonya had some muscles too, you were Maze Scouts for crying out loud.

_'And I have a bigger blade.'_ You thought smugly, eyeing the asian boy who had no weapon but only a rusty pipe he probably picked up from that Crank town a couple miles back.

The two boys slowed and dust clouds billowed like mini-tornadoes as you skidded to a stop.

There was a tall, thin, but muscular, boy with blondish-coppery hair, a young face, but eyes aged with experience.

He looked the both of you up and down, limping closer.

The slightly shorter asian boy caught your attention a little more.

He didn't look the least bit wary, or even concerned at his own lack of weapons.

He wielded his smile as his weapon, flashing it around, smug and amused.

"Something funny to you?" Sonya fumed, taking a step forward and raising her spear a bit higher.

They didn't back up, but the blonde one shuffled in his place a bit.

"Wow. She speaks." The black-haired boy murmured sarcastically, rubbing his nose with his hand.

Then he motioned to you and you stopped breathing.

"How 'bout the pretty one? She speak too?" He pointed at you and you snapped out of your daze, walking forward and pressing the tip of your katana into the soft flesh underneath his jaw.

You could feel his pulse in your fingertips, the fast-beating vibration traveling through the blade and into your veins.

"You know what's even prettier? My blade." You spat.

You started to hear the blond one chuckle exasperatedly, "This is just ridiculous…", so you turned the sword on him, tilting it sideways and giving him an equally sideways squint.

"You in a position to be joking, stick-head?" Your seriousness evoked a strange mix of fear and attraction within the tall, nice boy, and inside you were smiling your ass off.

Playing this part was just too great.

But he wasn't your type. You were more into the bad-boys, the ones who needed to almost die just to feel alive.

"Yeah," Sonya nodded at you and winked, just slightly. "She has a point. _And_ a bigger sword than you."

The black haired boy licked his lips, pursed them together and then stepped forward again with a chuckle.

"Baby girl, you ain't even seen my _sword_ yet-" You interrupted by starting to walk him backwards with a cold blade to his chest, and he raised his hands in surrender.

The tension between the two parties was pulled taut as a loaded crossbow.

"Stop." Sonya said flatly, all previous 'tough-girl acting' vanishing from her tone.

You rolled your eyes, but loosed your grip on the hilt, lowering your katana.

"What can i say," the boy said again, "She can't keep herself away from me. I'm a hot mess."

You were about to knee him in the balls, when you realized what angle he was going for.

He was purposefully trying to provoke you, to get you heated and have you start a fight.

_'So "hot mess" has brains too? Huh…'_ You thought.

You offered up an overly-fake grin, not playing his game.

"Sure, okay. You're a hot mess. Emphasis on the 'mess' part."

"Okay! Stop, just stop, all of you! This whole intimidation thing isn't getting us anywhere." The blonde said as soon as you finished.

Sonya nodded solemnly at the ground.

"We negotiate again tomorrow. My girls need to regroup." She stated.

"Not so fast, how do we know you're not just gonna attack us in the night?" The tall one asked, frowning.

Blondie had a point.

Sonya stayed completely calm, but you knew her well enough to see the gears turning behind the facade.

She was thinking.

"Because, we'll give you a hostage." She said at last. "And you'll give us one. They won't be harmed and we'll return them at tomorrow's negotiation, sunset, okay? This way it ensures that neither of us screw each other over. Sound good?"

The boy scrunched up his nose, but nodded. "Doesn't sound too great. But we'll do it-"

He was immediately interrupted by the black haired boy.

"Woah woah woah!" The shorter boy raised his hands, "Sorry Newt-"

_'so that was his name.'_

"- but none of the Gladers in their right minds would waltz into a tribe of murderous chicks. I can't make them do that."

_'Tribe of murderous chicks?' You thought, equally irritated as you were entertained. _

"You won't have to." Newt stepped forward, and Sonya nodded at him, as if to give him props for bravery.

Then there it was.

That nagging, sudden, lurching upwards in your stomach feeling you got when you were the first to venture in the Maze, the feeling that told you cliff jumping was a good idea, the feeling that made you want to kiss that jerk black haired boy you didn't even know.

The feeling that came from deep in the part of your mind that craved adrenaline like a drug.

And there was no stopping it now.

"I'll go too." You said the words before you could help yourself.

And how the black haired boy's ears perked up at this.

"Well well well," He took your katana from you slowly, testing the weight of it gingerly in his hands, and you didn't even move. "Looks like i made a new friend."

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

**(A/N/: Oooh, the suspense! I'm kidding! Sorry I had to pull a Rick Riordan cliff-hanger on you guys, but don't worry!**

**Part 2 should be up soon because i've already written half and i've planned out the whole thing.**

**The memories will appear and come into play in Part 2. **

**I'm just really sleep deprived, so i'm gonna go do that. Yep.**

**In other news (not really), I'm so happy that my boy Thomas Brodie-Sangster is playing Newt! He's really cute and all the casting is perfect for the movie. I'm so excited for it i'm going to implode. **

**I hope you think the beginning is off to an interesting start Alexandra; Part two is where things really pick up!**

**Keep reading, and pleaasseee review!**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	7. Chapter 4: MINHO (Part 2)

**MINHO**

**Chapter 4:** The One Thing I Remember _(Photographs)_

PART 2

_For Alexandra_

* * *

"Come on, make it easy

Say I never mattered."

_-Fall Out Boy_

* * *

A scraggly tree that resembled a claw scraping and grasping at empty air was the marker for the beginning of Group A's territory.

It was beyond parched and quite pathetic actually, but it was the only landmarker between the mountains and the Crank town, utterly alone otherwise.

Isolated.

You'd never thought you'd be able to relate with a tree, but here you were.

"Keep moving." Minho said gently.

He pushed you in the back, ushering you past the sad, skeleton of a tree.

Boys who were scattered across and around the tree began raising their heads to see you, popping up like daisies to get a good look.

You gulped.

Since the Maze, you hadn't seen so many boys in one place.

It was a tad overwhelming.

The sun was drooping low like a wounded animal, slumping down and only hanging in the sky by the shortest peak in the mountain range.

You glanced around nervously, unsure about what would happen to you.

You expected to be taken to the main leader of the group, or to be interrogated or chained to a post or something, but Minho just sat down, took off his backpack and pulled out an apple.

You furrowed your brow at him, but he didn't care enough to explain.

He only patted the ground next to him, giving you a curt nod.

You sat next to him, delicately placing your hands in your lap.

You'd accidentally underestimated the space between you two, so your knees were touching, but you didn't want to seem rude and scoot away so you stayed.

He dusted the fruit with his sleeve and held it up to you.

"Apple?"

Now you were beyond confused.

What was he playing at?

He must have seen you squint or something because he groaned.

"Look," He said, leaning in, "It's not poisoned. You aren't Snow White and i'm definitely not that weird evil grandma lady."

He bit a huge chunk of the apple as if to prove a point.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." You grabbed the apple from him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you bit into it, and it made you smile a little.

"This isn't very good security, you know." You spoke more confidently now, warming up to the boy. "I could escape so easily."  
You motioned around you at all the open land.

"But you won't." He said smugly, with a matter-of-fact tone. He reclined back, leaning on his forearms.

Your eyes flicked up and down at him, and you didn't care if he saw.

So what?

He obviously already knew he was hot by his staggering 50 foot ego.

"How do you know i won't?" You mused, mimicking his position.

It was getting harder to see each other in the new-fallen darkness, so he pulled out an oil lamp from his backpack and turned the dial.

"Because you're mine."

You gagged on your spit at that.

"Oh, no- I mean my hostage. You're my _hostage_!" He covered up.

You couldn't tell if that was what he was really trying to say, or if he was just trying to fix his mistake.

Either way you'd concluded that underneath all this macho-man there was a giant dork. It was cute.

"You look familiar." He said softly, like a thought that had accidentally slipped out.

"Yeah?"

You wanted to hear more.

"What did you say your name was again?" He asked curiously.

"It's (Y/N)."

The color drained from his face and it was like something clicked in his brain, like the stars shifted and formed constellations.

All at once he began scrambling through the belongings in his backpack.

"How could I not see it?!" He muttered angrily to himself, shuffling through scraps of paper.

"Uhh, you okay buddy?" You asked, unsure of what else to do.

What did something as simple as your name have to do with anything?

He stopped throwing things out of his backpack, holding up a small piece of paper, victorious.

"I got it!" He proclaimed, hurriedly putting it underneath the lamp, letting the flickering firelight illuminate it.

It wasn't a piece of paper at all. It was a picture of you.

You and Minho.

* * *

"I don't know how i didn't recognize you from before. I had this picture with me since the maze along with bits of memories of you, of us. I've had this picture and a name. Just_ one_ name from my past." He spoke excitedly, like someone discovering something new.

Or something old.

He didn't have to elaborate on that one, you already knew the name was yours.

In the picture, the two of you had your arms around each other and were smiling widely for the camera in front of a brick and stucco building.

You actually looked happy.

And clean.

You subconsciously reached out a finger and touched your face in the photo, as if checking to see if it were real.

"You remember us? You remember _me_?" You asked, shocked.

He nodded gravely, saddened that you didn't remember too.

"Well, were we like friends? Maybe relatives-" You tried.

He cut you off with a scoff.

So being related was out of the question.

"So we're not related. Great." You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

He had gotten really quiet and stopped looking at you. Your knees were still touching from when you first sat down.

"Minho..." You spoke quietly.

He smiled, leaning his head back, but his eyes were clenched shut tight and he looked pained.

You realized that was the first time you said his name, but to him the sound of his name on your lips was all too bittersweet and familiar and just too much to bear.

"Minho," You repeated, touching his hand gently.  
He looked a bit startled, almost pulling his hand away.

Almost.

The boy looked at you, tilting his head.

"Who was I? What did i do to you?" You pressed him one last time.

"(Y/N), you broke my heart."

* * *

All your previous hopes of you being with him shattered like glass, and you realized how foolish and fragile the dream was in the first place.

"No…" Your voice had more denial in it than disbelief.

He continued, "That's why I have the photo of you… And I like looking at it because at least in the picture you still loved me. People change, photographs are infinite. And in that photo, i love you and you love me, regardless of how you feel now. You can't change that."

Your heart twanged like an elastic cord.

"I'm here now." You tried to get him to look at you, but his eyes were distant and full of hurt.  
"I don't remember you, but i see you in front of me now and i want to."

Minho winced.

You realized he'd probably been here before with you.

"C-Can I just hold you?" He asked, pleadingly.

You nodded, and he guided you into his lap.

His breath shuddered as he exhaled.

"You weren't there for me," He was remembering more now, "I loved you and you used me, (Y/N). You split me like wood knowing i'd burn brighter in pieces."

All this talk of a you that wasn't you made your heart ache and your brain hurt.

You sighed into his chest, not knowing what else to do, and curled up into a ball.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now."

He stroked your hair.

"I'm sorry too. You're probably wondering what the shuck i'm doing, loving you when you barely know me." He laughed sadly.

"No." You reassured him. "Well, yes, I'm a hostage, you're my captor, i barely know you but for some reason my heart beats like yours and when i lay with you i forget about WICKED and i forget that i'm dying for a little while." The words flowed out of you and felt safer out in the darkness.

He sighed with relief.

"I'm sorry I hit on you and stole your sword. But I think i love you. I think I've always loved you, (Y/N)."

The oil lamp had long died out and it was easier to say what you felt when he couldn't see you.

Nevermind, to hell with that, all he could see was _you_.

"Me too." You said, and you thought it was too soft for him to hear, but his arms held your tighter and you knew that he'd heard.

Sonya would want you to come back to Group B tomorrow morning, but you didn't think you'd ever leave his arms, not really.

* * *

**(A/N: Great prompt Alexandra, writing the girls of Group B was super cool and different!**

**Minho showed a bit more of his soft-side in Part 2, but it think that made up for him being a total sass-master in Part 1.**

**I love the Maze, but getting out on the Scorch was great as well!**

**Also YAY! because Thomas Brodie-Sangster is playing Newt, and from the trailers I've seen he's really great for the part.**

**Keep reviewing, and thank you for all the compliments!**

**Summer school has been a total raging bitch, but i'll try and write every day or every other day.**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	8. Chapter 5: GALLY (Part 1)

**GALLY**

**Chapter 5: **That Boy Is Poison

_For Savannah _

**PART 1**

_Happy Birthday, Savannah!_

* * *

Savannah almost felt bad filling up that bucket with ice cubes and hose-water.

Chuck had come up with the curtain-pulling prank idea, but the freezing cold water?

That was all Savannah.

"We ain't got all day, _Greeni_e." Chuck good-naturedly punched Savannah's shoulder, putting an emphasis on the word 'Greenie'.  
He was just glad he wasn't the green bean anymore.

She only rolled her eyes, turning off the hose and heaving the bucket up with a small grunt.

"Well I'm ready when you are, shank." Her voice came off a little too cruel, so she gave the intimidated boy a wink and a curt nod.

He grinned.

Ever since the stall doors broke in the restroom and were taken out and replaced with curtains, Savannah and Chuck had been planning a not-so-eleborate but devious prank.

And who is the target of such atrocities you might ask?

Savannah had absolutely no idea, but Chuck promised it would be someone "good", whatever that meant.

"Here we go." Chuck said in a hushed voice, but not before prancing off to bring along some other Gladers to watch.

Now Savannah was feeling _really_ bad.

She hadn't known there would be a crowd!

She swallowed her guilt and ignored the 12 other boys who followed behind her and Chuck into the boys restroom.

Savannah tried to prevent the water from sloshing against the metal bucket so that they wouldn't blow their cover, but she'd be damned if Chuck's uncontrollable giggles didn't already give them away.

Only one stall curtain was closed, the one at the very end.

Chuck tugged at Savannah's sleeve and whispered with a knowing-grin, "_He's_ in there, changing. Just like he does every afternoon."

She couldn't help but wonder who would be their victim, but she tried not to dwell on it.

Dwelling took the fun out of pranks.

The Glader boys lined up against the sinks to watch with their hands on their mouths.

Chuck motioned Savannah to follow his lead.

The two of them crouched down and tip-toed to the last stall.

Savannah's heart was racing with that familiar fast-paced thumping and rush of adrenaline pranking always gave her.

Chuck gripped the edge of the curtain and raised three plump fingers.

And then two.

And then just one.

He lurched backwards, pulling back the curtain away and shouting "GAHHHHH!"

Even Savannah jumped a little.  
Chuck had a special way with making incomprehensible, animalistic noises very loudly.

On queue, Savannah threw the water and ice in the bucket forward and onto the unsuspecting, shock-ridden boy.

Only now in the midst of the Glader boys' laughs did she fully process who the boy was.

It was Gally.

_Him. _

Out of all people, why did it have to be Gally doused with water, and Savannah holding the bucket?

* * *

Not only was Gally soaking wet, but he was half-naked too.

What a fantastic day it must've been for him.

In the middle of changing his jeans, his zipper was undone and he was shirtless.

Savannah didn't expect him to be so,—to be blunt— ripped.

His muscles were far leaner than she'd originally thought, usually all that was hidden underneath his black sweaters.

He was a Builder after all.

The boys were still laughing at his look of sheer terror, and a little part of Savannah lit up with anger.

He looked confused and mostly hurt, but all that faded away and his expression warped into pure rage when he met Savannah's eyes.

Savannah didn't know the boy well enough, but something about his calm-fury made her think she should be scared.

Drenched with water, streamlines dripping down his nose and chest, he stared straight into her eyes, right in that weak spot that felt like he was looking directly into her soul.

His voice came out rugged and his tone was dead.

"I ought to teach you a lesson."

Savannah didn't even have time to react before he snatched up his gray crewneck and pushed past everyone, making Savannah drop her bucket with a clatter.

He was gone, along with those feelings of adrenaline and happiness that pranking usually brought her.

Chuck slung an arm around her shoulder, shaking her and trying to get her to join in with the laughing and hooting.

"C'mon, Sav, it's just a joke-"

"Well I didn't see _him_ laughing, Chuck." She snapped, bringing a hand up to her forehead.

She didn't know why she was so distressed.

Chuck stopped laughing a little, but had to shout over those of the Gladers in the bathroom.

"Hey," He asked softly, "What's wrong?"

Savannah scoffed to herself.

"I just don't understand, why did it have to be Gally? Out of all people, Chuck, why Gally?!"

"Hey, Gally's just the same as any Glader, I supposed-"

"No, cut the klunk, you know he's not. They_ already_ see him as an outcast!"

Her voice was growing louder and louder and some of the other boys were noticing.

They were wondering why Savannah was getting so distraught over this.

Hell, even Savannah was wondering why she was getting so distraught over this.

"We embarrassed him in front of everyone, Chuck!"

Savannah pointed angrily to the spectators who took a step back and began walking towards the exit, and good that.

Chuck ran a hand through his hair.

"Well what're ya gonna do about it?" He sighed.

Savannah's answer was easier said than done.

"I'm going to apologize."

Chuck seemed bent on not letting her go see him.

"He ran off! No one knows where he is!"

"I do." She spoke quickly, sounding more confident than she felt.

_'He's in the deadheads.'_ She told herself, _'That's where he would go. That's where I would go.' _

Chuck groaned, defeated.

"Please, Sav, you're my friend and you don't understand. That boy is poison. He's bad. You're good."

He said the last part with such finality that it infuriated Savannah.

"Well maybe I don't wanna be anymore."

And with that she jogged out the bathroom, leaving Chuck and the now-empty bucket behind her.

* * *

**(A/N: Sorry part 1 is so short, Savannah! I already have parts 2 and (possibly) 3 mapped out, I just haven't gotten the chance to write them.**

**Also I hope you had a happy birthday!**

**I've never written Gally before, but i'm pretty sure underneath all that brooding and revenge-plotting he's just a big teddy bear. **

**An intimidating and predatory, but still cuddly, teddy bear. **

**Anyways expect the next part(s?) soon.**

**-timelordXatXhearts) **


	9. Chapter 5: GALLY (Part 2)

**GALLY**

**Chapter 5:** That Boy Is Poison 

_For Savannah_

**PART 2**

* * *

Oh, Hear, The monsters calling home now

No, they don't wanna be alone

But the closet they keep closed

Swallow the key so

That nobody, nobody knows how they beat

They beat their chests to the sounds of their broken hearts...

_-Run River North, 'Monsters Calling Home'_

* * *

The moonlight through the sharp, twisted branches of the deadheads was the eerie, blueish sort.

Savannah was already regretting following Gally here.

"Gally?!" She called out, voice naked and unsure in the silence.

A branch whipped her cheek and she felt the hot stinging of an open wound.

"You okay there?"

Savannah jumped and whirled around quickly with a gasp.

It was only Gally.

"Oh y-yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, you just scared me a little." She admitted.

His face fell. "Yeah, I tend to have that effect on a lot of people."

She frowned.

This was not the "i-ought-to-teach-you-a-lesson" Gally she'd seen in front of everyone back in the restrooms.

This was just a frustrated, sweet, lonely boy.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Savannah spoke slowly.

She looked at the ground, ashamed.

Of course he'd be mad at her. Furious, even.

When he saw that, he tried to reassure her with a, "Nah! How could i be mad at the famous Glader-girl Savannah? But I do have to admit, the freezing cold water thing is a bit of a turn-off."

Savannah laughed at that.

He motioned her over to a nearby bench and she sat down next to him.

Although it was dark, she could see him clearer than ever before right there in the crisp moonlight.

"How come you never talk to me?" Savannah asked, just letting the words spill out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He looked at his hands.

His too-long sleeves were wet in some places where the water had blotched the light gray fabric black.

"I don't really talk to anyone much, now that i think about it."

Savannah glimpsed down at her hands too.

"Neither do I….Now that i think about it."

His head perked up at that and he gazed over at her with complete understanding.

He looked both sorrowful and stunned.

Gally was sad that she felt how he felt, and stunned that someone like her could feel that way.

His fingertips brushed her knuckles. They were cold to the touch.

"A little chilly?" He asked with a smirk.

She nodded, and let him take her hand in his.

Their legs were touching now too.

Gally smelt like teakwood and apples, and his green eyes were almost black with only flecks of alpine.

The both of them were breathing a little heavier.

"Kiss me." Savannah said barely, just a breathy whisper. She was impulsive, and the impulse to kiss Gally was the strongest one she'd ever felt.

Gally nodded and pulled her closer by the waist, lips hovering over hers.

But then he pulled back.

"I can't, Savannah."

Savannah's heart dropped deep into her gut.

"W-Wha-"

He cut her off.

"No no no, I want to kiss you, Savannah. You're beautiful and amazing and I really really want to. But I just can't kiss the girl i've had a crush on since forever in front of a tombstone. In front of _several_ tombstones, actually!"

He motioned around them.

Savannah had forgotten they were in a graveyard.

"Oh, there's that…" She remarked, smiling a little at the_ 'girl i've had a crush on since forever'_ part.

Gally stood up, and held out a hand for her.

She ignored it, getting up on her own, but then edged closer to him, letting him rest his hands around her hips.

"I mean i get it, i've got the whole 'brooding-vampire' thing going on, but i'm not that morbid!" He joked, taking her hand and guiding her to the Homestead.

"I am going to get revenge on you, though." He stated smugly.

She grinned at him. "And how are you going to do that?"

Gally only looked ahead, hand still in hers.

"Well, I guess i'm just going to have to kiss you."

* * *

Gally explained to Savannah on the way there that he had a whole room to himself in the Homestead because he was a Keeper.

She had to admit she was a little impressed.

"No one should be up there." He said with satisfaction, tip toeing with her up the creaking, narrow staircase to the second story of the Homestead.

That's when the heard the voices.

"Yeah, if we see 'er, we're probably supposed ta kill her. Just sayin'." Said the nasally voice of a boy, ever-so casually.

"Get down!" Gally hissed, ducking down a couple of stairs and pulling Savannah with him.

"Who's that?!" Savannah wondered aloud.

Gally groaned, more at himself than her.

"Those are my idiotic fan-boys. They follow me around everywhere and call me 'Captain Gally.'"

Savannah snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

He smiled, grabbing some rope off the wall from behind him and mouthing, "Follow my lead."

They both got up and Gally tied Savannah's hands loosely behind her with the rope.

He nudged her upwards in the back.

"That's right, get on up there!" Gally played, using his gruff voice and speaking loudly.

He gave Savannah a wink before the 3 boys guarding his bedroom door turned.

"Hey Captain, ain't that the girl we gonna kill?" One of the younger ones said.

"Yeah, whatchu doin' with her, bringing her into our quarters?" The chubby one questioned, stepping forward boldly.

Gally poked Savannah in the back again as if to prove a point.

"I'm just going to teach this one a little lesson!"

Savannah blushed bright crimson.

But then the boys grinned and she got a sick feeling in her stomach.

"You go on back to bed." Gally said in a fatherly voice, patting them on the back and eagerly rushing into his bedroom.

Savannah finally let out the big breath she was holding in once the wooden door slammed shut.

He smiled comfortingly at her.

"You gonna untie my hands, 'Captain Gally'?" She mocked.

He winked at her with a "If I feel like it", but ended up untying her hands nonetheless.

After he finished, there was a gaping silence.

They both knew what was going to happen next, like the hill on a roller coaster after you'd already strapped yourself in.

It was bound to happen with these two, they were meant to kiss.

* * *

His bed was rippling with fractured, dappled shadows that the moon cast down through the window pane.

Shadows like the bruises on his arms: shades of almost-black and an odd dark blue, like moonlight through murky water.

"You don't have to kiss me, you know," He scratched the back of his head, "If you've changed your mind, or you don't want to anymore…" He trailed off.

Savannah noticed that his hair was still damp into places.

Some wet strands were plastered by the sides of his face, curling at the tips.

To answer him, she lifted a hand behind his ear and pressed her lips gently to the very corner of his mouth.

His lips were sweet.

And that ignited it, all at once his hands were on her, and hers were tangled in his hair.

His lips were rough and slow on hers and she could feel his hand clutching at her backside.

She leaned further into him when he backed away, and it was an endless cycle: pushing, pulling, tugging, needing.

When they finally parted, Savannah's lips were tingling with static where his once were.

His hands were still around her waist and she rested her head on his chest.

His heartbeat was an inconsistent, off-beat throbbing.

"I don't want to be misunderstood anymore." He murmured into her hair.

"I know what you mean." She responded just as quiet.

He stood back and furrowed his brow, his hands on her shoulders.

"But how, Savannah? You're nothing like me. Savannah… you're like a song. You're the feeling on my eyelids on a sunny day. Y-You're a rose…" He sounded so genuinely perplexed at the notion that she was like him, almost as if he didn't want to believe it.

He hated the thought of her miserable.

Savannah looked back in his eyes and thought of the time the Griever stung her.

She thought of when she first got to the Glade and slept alone.

She thought of the changing.

When she finally spoke, her voice was smaller than it had ever been.

"Roses have thorns too, Gally."

He paused, trying to find the right words to say.

"Well at least you've got me."

Savannah rested her head on his chest again, and this time his heartbeat fell in sync with hers.

It was still off-beat and wounded, but hers was there to steady it.

"Well at least I've got you." She agreed with a sigh.

* * *

**(A/N: Finished! Yay!**

**Thank you for all the compliments, guys!**

**I think i'm going to write some Newt soon, because i may have accidentally fallen in love with the actor who's playing him, Thomas Sangster. **

**So if you want a better chance of me writing your prompt, just make it Newt or if it's a multi-character one, include Newt.**

**I haven't written any Thomas yet, so I'll have to get on that as well. (Dylan O'Brien is precious and must be protected at all costs)**

**Also, Life-hack: Never do summer school ever. _Ever_. I would rather sit on a cactus than go to another day of summer school and listen to my teacher talk about his nonexistent love-life.**

**Anyways, pleeease review!**

-timelordXatXhearts **)**


	10. Chapter 6: NEWT (Part 1)

**NEWT**

**Chapter 6:** One Big, Happy Wedding _(Piano Keys)_

Modern AU

_For Dani (PM)_

_You're promised to Thomas, but your heart has other plans_

* * *

"One day, whether you  
are 14,  
28  
or 65

you will stumble upon  
someone who will start  
a fire in you that cannot die.

However, the saddest,  
most awful truth  
you will ever come to find––

is they are not always  
with whom we spend our lives"

-_Beau Taplin_

* * *

"I can't believe you two are getting married!" Minho exclaimed for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Both you and Newt looked at each other from across the room and rolled your eyes.

Thomas threw an arm around your shoulder and shook you.

"Yup!" He announced, "I can't believe i got my hands on a girl like (Y/N)!"

You. Thomas. Married?

It just didn't seem right.

But here you were, engaged for three months.

You saw Newt sneak out of Thomas's living room and go down the hall, but you ignored him and turned to the rest of the gang.

Newt, Thomas, Minho, Teresa, even Newt's sister Sonya were all here in Thomas's mostly-empty, packed-up apartment in celebration of him moving out and into your house. You guys _were_ getting married in two days after all, it was about time.

"I still can't believe it-" Minho began again but everyone cut him off with a "WE KNOW!" and a chuckle followed.

"I mean, you're only twenty-one (Y/N)!" Minho raised an eyebrow and clinked his glass of champagne to yours as if to prove a point.

Everyone here was twenty-two, except for you. And Sonya, who was twenty and drinking a warm caprisun with a grimace.

Your engagement ring felt heavy and odd on your finger.

You never got used to it, its weight was always nagging at you.

Then, there, over the laughing and small talk and underneath Thomas's arm, you heard the noise.

Sweet and somber drifting through the hallway, the sound of piano keys.

It was Newt, probably playing Thomas's old, unpacked piano that he planned to throw out.

He was the only one who'd play Mozart at a party.

You glanced around at the others before padding over to Thomas's hallway, following your ear.

You couldn't leave Newt alone, now could you?

That would be poor hosting skills.

Well at least that was what you told yourself.

Finally, you located the source. He was playing in the office.

You leaned against the wall by the slightly cracked-open door, basking in his music.

You sighed a little too loudly, and he paused on a note.

_'Shit.'_ You hissed at yourself.

Wait- no, maybe you hadn't been found out yet. There was still hope!

But then he changed the song and you knew for sure you'd been spotted.

You snorted to yourself at being caught.

It was your old favorite song, 'Someone To Watch Over Me' by Ella Fitzgerald, the song the two of you used to slow dance barefoot to, back when you were dating.

That was so long ago, what was it?

Two and a half years?

But nonetheless the memories and waves of nostalgia crashed over your body and for a second you remembered what it was like to be loved and in love with Newt.

He laughed, light and cheery and you could almost see his smile through the door.

"You coming inside, Greenbean? Or are you just going to creep on me for a little while longer?" He mused.

"I was actually hoping on going with the second one, but!-" You pushed through the door and sat next to him on the piano bench, "I'll humor you."

Then he gaped at you the same way he did when he first laid eyes on you.

You broke eye contact and cleared your throat, turning to the piano.

"It's been so long…" You sighed, "I've forgotten how to play."

You experimentally played a soft G chord.

The sound was sorrowful and familiar and beautiful. Kind of like Newt.

Then there was a gentle hand over yours, guiding your fingers over to the next chord.

The feeling of his touch, his fingers gliding over and inbetween yours felt a lot like holding his hand.

Soon you were playing again, and the both of you were smiling wildly, and laughing when you messed up.

The both of your arms were touching, and you felt more comfortable that way.

With Thomas, his affection felt forced upon you. He didn't say your name like he was supposed to.

He didn't caress the word, he didn't say your name like he was holding a diamond or call you "green bean", he called you "baby maker" and said your name like one would say "pass the salt".

You turned to Newt the same time he turned to you, and your noses brushed.

You'd forgotten the certain kind of sweet peppermint mint gum that Newt smelled like, and you reminded yourself that he tasted the same.

A slow grin spread across his face and your hands started moving slower and the piano, the song ending.

You felt yourself leaning closer.

Then his finger hit your wedding ring.

His smile fell and his eyes got wide.

Newt jerked away from your touch so quickly that the piano boomed with a messy, pounding of random keys, and the bench you were sitting on screeched backwards a little.

He stood up and walked in circles, with his head in his hands.

You just sat there, in utter bewilderment.

What had gotten into him?

You heard a muffled "What the hell was that?" from Thomas in the living room.

"Newt-" You began, a little confused.

"Don't." He cut you off.

Newt snatched up his messenger bag and his ray bans and pushed through the door frame with only a, "Congratulations on the wedding. See you around."

The sound of the door slamming shut made you flinch.

"Yeah, see you around…" You muttered to yourself.

* * *

It felt so weird having Thomas in your house.

Your house, the one with the forest in the back, the one you'd bought with your own money and watched Game of Thrones every sunday night in.

The engagement hadn't seemed real until now he was in your bed, hogging up the blankets and dead asleep, not bothering to wait up for you.

Was it that you cared too much? Or that he didn't care enough.

If you really thought about it, you couldn't think of a reason why you'd said yes when he asked you 'the big question'.

Then there was always that other someone.

How the hell did you end up here, two days before your wedding and thinking of a boy who wasn't your fiancé?

You groaned and walked over to your dresser.

It was midnight: too late to be thinking.

You shuffled through pajama clothes to find your favorite band shirt, 'The Gladers: Summer Reunion Tour' one, and matched it with a pair of black underwear.

It was hot, and it wasn't like you had anyone to impress.

Maybe you spoke too soon, or maybe the universe hated you, but just as you thought that, the lonely sound of the doorbell echoed through your house and through your bones.

You didn't know how or why, but you knew who was at your door. Who else could it have been.

* * *

"Newt. What are you doing here?"

He seemed further away than he was, with his face shaded beneath the dim orange glow of the porch light.

He laughed sadly.

"I-I don't know. I have no idea what i'm doing, (Y/N). i was just walking and i found myself at your doorstep. It's funny, because i think I'll always end up at your doorstep-"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! Are you serious right now?! I was in love with you and when i finally got over you, two days before my freaking wedding, you pull this?" You were so angry, so unbelievably frustrated, but you felt tears swelling in your eyes and you felt your voice catch in your throat you didn't know why. "I-I loved you Newt! Don't you know what you're doing to me right now!?"

He blinked at you.

His lips trembled, and he was visibly stunned.

"You got over me-?"

"Yes! I'm getting married!" You snapped, "Of course i got over you, of course i…." Your words tumbled off your lips until you found no more.

Did you really get over him?

Thomas, your _fiancé_, was sleeping in the other room, how could you even be questioning yourself right now?

"Well I never got over you." He said it with such sincerity, as if l he'd known for a long time. "I thought that giving it time would help me move on, but it's been 2 years, (Y/N). And….I don't think i'll ever get over you. You'll always be at the back of my mind. I'll always stumble to your doorstep when i'm drunk and i'll always mumble your name in my sleep."

Newt clamped his eyelids shut in a cringe, whether at what he'd just said or at what you'd say next, you didn't know.

Only his soft, panting breaths were heard in the silence.

"So," you asked at last, the question that had been eating at you for two long years, "Are you still in love with me?"

His gaze flickered up to your eyes and your heart clenched.

"(Y/N)," He said your name pleadingly, "I think i'll always be in some sort of nonsensical, messed up kind of love with you."

And then you couldn't breathe.

You turned away with a gasp, unable to look at him for one more second.

You told yourself you were stronger than this, but your chest was heaving, your whole entire being was shaking and you knew you were crying.

The silent kind of crying, where your screams could only tear at your insides.

This is what he did to you, this is what you did to him, and the both of you still dared to call it love.

There was nothing as great and nothing as terrible as your love for the boy with the easy grin, tousled hair, and a slight limp.

"I-" You tried to muster up words, but they all fell apart in your mouth.

You felt his arms start to move around you, and you were overwhelmed by the feeling of him.

It felt like the sound of piano chords, that low rumbling, falling down the stairs, tumbling crescendo deep inside your gut-

You broke away from him.

You couldn't melt into him, not now.

You had to be strong, for Thomas.

"You know I'm in love with you (Y/N). I know it's bad timing and it doesn't make sense since we both broke up with each other, but i do. Now, all i'm asking is if the feelings are mutual." You heard him step backwards in defeat, so you whirled around to face him.

His eyes were red with tire, and your hair was in a scraggly bun with fly-aways framing your face.

This was ridiculous.

"I…. Newt, I can't love you-"

"But do you?"

"You don't understand, I _can't_."

"That's not what i'm asking, (Y/N)."

You groaned, and buried your face into your chest, hugging your arms.

All of a sudden, the night felt cold and your bare legs pricked with goosebumps.

He sighed, exasperatedly, and shrugged out of his jacket, handing it over to you.

His eyes were swimming in the light, glistening with unfallen tears.

You tried to shake your head "no", but he pressed his jacket into your arms and you took it, hugging it's warmth.

"You might as well." He said, backing away. "You're already wearing my band shirt."

You looked down at what you were wearing. He must've left it at your house all those years ago.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." He said curtly, and you didn't think you'd seen anything as sad as Newt angry.

Newt was never mad, at least not at you.

You'd finally broke him.

The funny part was that you'd always thought it'd be Newt.

You thought that he'd be the one you'd see at the end of the aisle, at the end of the line.

* * *

**(A/N: Part 2 coming soon! It will include the bachelor/bachelorette party and the wedding! (Not sure whether or not i'm going to make drunk!Newt a thing?)**

**Remember this is NOT a Thomas story, this is a Newt story. So feel free to predict how you think this will play out in the reviews!**

**I have had absolutely NO time to write between summer school and club soccer, and with high school soccer camp starting on Monday i'll be having even less time! But no worries! I'll try my best and summer school is ending in two weeks (thank you Jesus, hallelujah, amen). **

**Keep reviewing (it makes me very happy)!**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**


	11. Chapter 6: NEWT (Part 2)

**NEWT**

**Chapter 6:** One Big, Happy Wedding (Piano Keys)

Modern AU

_For Dani (PM)_

**PART 2**

* * *

"I don't wanna be your friend,

I wanna kiss your neck

Don't you _see_ me?

I think i'm falling, I'm falling for you

Don't you _need_ me?"

_-The 1975 _

* * *

You hated the color.

Your wedding dress was so unbelievably white, the bright-searing, burning-star kind, like the peak of a mountain ready to avalanche.

Pale beading bloomed from the bodice of it like a lace tattoo and gave it a regal, antique elegance.

The color also made your skin look deliciously bronze and was quite stunning paired with the design of the strapless dress.

Come to think of it, it was a wonderful color.

It just didn't feel like… _you_.

You tugged at the hips, and pushed a strand of hair behind your shoulder.

There was no going back now anyways, today was _it_.

That's right, "the big day".

But you didn't feel happy.

The closest you felt to "happy" was "relieved".

Dread crept over the corners of your mind like vines over a stone wall.

The wedding was in 2 hours and you were still staring in the mirror, putting on mascara as slowly as you could.

At least getting ready helped you take your mind off of yesterday's incident.

You thought back to last night, trying to piece together exactly what happened.

What had you said and how much of it did you actually mean?

_So let's get one thing straight, by NO means at all should you have been allowed to leave your own bachelorette/bachelor party intoxicated._

_Newt and you were both very drunk and were running the streets like psychotic twelve year olds._

_"Mah…M-My real name is Isaac." He hiccuped. "Isaac Newton."_

_"No!? You're shitting me right now!" You giggled like a school girl, stumbling to a stop when he knelt down and pulled a ring pop out of his pocket. _

_"Will you marry me, (Y/N)?" He grinned sleepily. _

_A pang of sadness hit you just then and you frowned and whispered "Yes. I would marry you, Newt." _

_He stood back up, realizing he'd upset you, and put the ring pop back in his pocket._

_You moved towards him so that you were standing under the same, fluorescent, flickering street light._

_It buzzed and made everything seem a bit unreal, kind of like a strobelight did in a club._

_You walked into his embrace and gingerly rested your head against his chest._

_"I'm a bad person-"_

_"No, you're not a bad person (Y/N)." He murmured into your hair._

_"I'm a bad person for loving you... Even with this stupid ring on my finger." You hid your face in his chest, so you wouldn't have to look at him._

_He held you tighter then, keeping you down on earth even though your head was so light and dizzy you swore that you would float away and drift into starlight. _

_"You're very drunk, (Y/N)." Newt stated the obvious in a smug tone. "You're getting married tomorrow, Thomas is probably so worried right now-"_

_"I don't care." You muttered grouchily. _

_"Well you should-"_

_"Well i don't. He… he... doesn't love me like you do." Your eyelids were heavy with drowsiness, and your head was swimming in circles. _

_Newt was the only thing holding you upright now._

_"Run away with me, Newt? We could just go. Like Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, you could..be… my lost boy…" The words became thicker, meddled with your saliva and harder to slur out with the liquor burning like acid through your veins. _

_He chuckled a little at you, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you looked, with glitter smudged on your cheek and only one high heel on._

_"I would." He whispered softly. "But we can't. Thomas is my best friend, and he really likes you-"_

_"He cheated on me." The words lolled off your tongue before you could prevent it and Newt stiffened around you. _

_You didn't sound angry, you sounded nonchalant and maybe a little bit tired. "With… Teresa… then,…Brenda. During the engagement..."_

_Newt didn't say anything after that. _

_He'd thought he'd known Thomas better. Thomas was his "Tommy", his best mate. _

_"Kiss me Newt." You leaned forward, but Newt held you back, looking towards the club anxiously._

_"We're in the middle of the street, someone will see." _

_"Good." _

_Then just as he began too let you lean in, the black blurs around the edges closed in over your mind and the world was smothered by darkness._

You shook your head at your reflection in the mirror

You were glad you'd passed out before Newt could kiss you, before _you_ could kiss _him_.

Well, passing out did result in him having to carry you home and you feeling like you just got bitch slapped by the hulk this morning, but at least it kept you from saying anything else that would've resulted in a lot of complications and confusion on Thomas's part.

_'Thomas is good for me.'_ You told yourself, reciting it like a mantra. And it was true.

Ever since Newt started hanging around, you'd been crying a lot more.

Thomas never made you cry.

Thomas never made you smile, either.

With him, you couldn't feel a damn thing, and that was how you liked it.

"Knock, knock?!"

Teresa's voice at the door startled you and made you smear your lipgloss.

You groaned, and wiped away the smudge of coral off your cheek.

"Hi Teresa." You smiled at her and she looked you up and down.

"Looking good, (Y/N)!" She circled you, getting a good glance at your dress.

You were in a guest room of the giant chapel. The very chapel where the wedding was to be held.

"An hour and a half until the ceremony," Teresa said excitedly, her light blue bridesmaid dress swooshing around her knees when she jumped up and down.

"But the best man won't come inside." Teresa puppy-pouted, rushing out of the room again with only a "Congratulations!" and a perky smile.

The best man. Newt.

You had to go talk to him, but you just didn't have the time.

Mumbling "screw it", you lifted the skirt of your dress up to yours knees and began to push through the doors and march outside to where Newt was waiting.

* * *

Newt gave you a small wave, but kept his distance.

The space between you two seemed to stretch for forever.

The way he smiled at you made your heart throb against your ribcage, a slow pulling ache.

His smile was tired and content and nostalgic, like how someone would grin a little at a distant memory.

You bunched up your dress and started towards him, but he cut you off by turning away with his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the tilted jacaranda tree.

"You look kinda nice in white, (Y/N)-"

"I love you."

Sure, you shouldn't have been able to love Newt, but your heart screamed his name when his fingers brushed yours and you'd been dreaming about him more often lately and when you broke your arm last month he was the first person you called without even thinking, not Thomas, not even a goddamn ambulance.

He sighed deeply, scratching the back of his head, and your heart fell into your gut.

"No." He stated, horribly simple.

Now you were mad.

"You don't get to tell me who i can and can't love. Not even you can do that." You said through gritted teeth.

"You don't understand. You don't want to love me, (Y/N)."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" You flung your arms into the air and church bells tolled, sending birds up around you in a flurry of white, gray-speckled wings and angry coos.

He scoffed to himself.

"Because my life is a fucking 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle that i can't even put together."

You groaned, but your voice cracked and salty, burning tear-drops stung your cheeks when you blinked, glinting like the diamonds on your ring as they fell.

Everything was a game to Newt.

It was jigsaw with his life, poker with his heart, and snakes and ladders when he kissed the back of your neck, then your spine, then your ear.

Two years it had been, and you still remembered the feeling of his hand combing that one hair behind your ear, you still remembered the smell of his apartment and the name of his favorite downtown coffee shop.

And to make it worse, Newt looked nice in a suit. Really, really nice.

The church bells sounded again, only more insistent, and you wanted to shout at them to shut up.

He flinched at the noise like he'd been wounded, averting his gaze to his shoes.

"I'm guessing that's your queue-"

Panic rose up in your throat and you sputtered out the first words that came to your mind.

"No, no! Newt, please!"

You stumbled closer to him, but he only backed up again.

"Why won't you come closer, Newt?" Your voice was strained and your up-do was already falling out, loose curls tumbling onto your bare shoulders and tickling your skin.

You frowned when he looked at you oddly,

"Because I'm afraid- no, terrified that i might kiss you… Now I wouldn't want to mess up that pretty pink lipstick. I'll leave that to Thomas-"

"But don't you love me?" You begged.

He shouted and you jumped a little.

"YES! Yes, what kind of question is that?! Of course i love you! I love you, i've loved you, and i will always continue to love you and i can't even help it." He ran a hand through his bronze-blonde hair and breathed out "fuck" to himself, crouching down and putting one hand to the earth to steady himself.

"I'm in love with my best friend's fiancé. I'm going to hell…" He paused thoughtfully, and then stood up, shaking his head spastically. "No. No, (Y/N). You're going to go in there and be happy with Thomas and you're not going to see me again-"

"No!" Your voice was gritty from all the yelling and you were positive that the hem of your dress was blacked with street-tar.

This day was a mess.

"Why not?! Why not, (Y/N)…" Newt's hands were trembling when he placed them on your shoulders, as if afraid to touch what wasn't his.

But you were his.

"Because." Then you gave him that same sad, looking-at-a-photograph smile. "Because it's not even cold outside, but i still got goosebumps when you said my name just then.

His eyes softened and he stopped quaking.

"I'm going to kiss you, (Y/N). Okay?" His breath was warm and gentle on your cheek.

You nodded, and he leaned in, so close your heart started fluttering a million miles over your head.

And when his lips met yours and his hands found your hips, the worlds aligned.

"(Y/N)?! What the hell is going on here?"

And there he was.

Thomas.

_Your fiancé. _

* * *

**(A/N: Sorry if this is bad, Dani. I'm very ill and just exhausted really, so my judgement is extremely poor. **

**Like, seriously. **

**I tried to eat cereal with a fork.**

**So SURPRISE! There will be a Part 3, but i'm not sure what's going to happen; so it'd be really cool if you guys could tell me what should happen.**

**I'm kinda terrified that this is bad.**

**I will refine this later when i'm not half-asleep.**

**Pleeeaaseee review, i love reviews! :D**

**Goodbye, friends.**

**I'm going to bed.**

**-timelordXatXhearts )**

* * *

**07-15-14 ~A/N: Okay, i fixed some typos and patched up some grammatical errors in this chapter (finally)! I've plotted out and even written snippets of the next chapter, but i probably won't post it until this weekend. Summer school and soccer camp will be over this Thursday guys, so please bear with me! I will be writing like crazy once i'm out of this hell-hole, and also i might start up a Mortal Instruments Shadowhunters OC fic, similar to the demigod OC fic i did where people submitted their OCs for me and i wrote them! I just finished City of Heavenly Fire, so i'm having a lot of mortal instruments feels right now. i kind of want to cry.**

**Keep reviewing! Thank you so much for taking time to read these, it really makes my day :D**

**-timelordXatXhearts (again?)**


	12. Chapter 6: NEWT (Part 3)

**NEWT**

**Chapter 6:** One Big, Happy, Wedding (Piano Keys)

Modern AU

_For Dani_

**PART 3**

* * *

"I prefer rainfall over sunshine

and maybe that explains

why'd i choose you

over anyone else."

_-unknown_

* * *

Thomas's forehead was slick and glistening with sweat and you wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but you weren't sure what he'd do if you touched him.

Would he recoil in disgust with a sneer curling his lips as they mouthed 'I knew it.'?

Or would he break down and crumble, as if all those stone towers you'd built your trust and relationship on were made of sand all along, and would perish at your slightest touch and drift into the wind?

To be honest, you looked more affected by the whole ordeal than him.

Thomas was shocked.

Newt was silent.

But you?

Your entire sky was caving in on the world, it was caving in on you.

"I-…I just, Thomas…." You tried to find words, just any, but you struggled to get a grip on them just as you were struggling to get a grip on reality.

You knew you should've said "Sorry", but the truth of it was you weren't.

Not even a little bit.

Thomas's eyes wavered like a pond being rippled, and you were the stone.

Everytime he tried to ball his fists in anger, his grasp on the feeling crumbled apart and the wall of anger fell away to only hurt and confusion.

Newt placed his hand on your shoulder but you stepped out from under it, a wave of nausea consuming you at his touch.

You were sickened at yourself.

_'What the hell were you thinking.'_

But you knew exactly what you were thinking.

You were thinking of the way Newt's lips would taste.

You were selfish and naive and you knew it.

Thomas sputtered out something unintelligible, pulling on the collar of his dress shirt.

"What happened?" He asked at last.

"I don't know…. I don't know….I ruined my dress- i don't know."

You looked down meekly at the blackened end of your once pure-white skirt and thought, _'You did this'_ at yourself.

You couldn't think straight, you couldn't think at all. You couldn't even move.

All you could do was feel helpless.

The only thing you felt towards yourself was hatred; your blood felt like venom pumping through your body and you wanted to run out of your own skin.

Newt didn't say anything, he didn't justify his actions and he sure as hell didn't justify yours.

He just stared at his best friend, face blank like there was nothing wrong and everything wrong all at once.

"What do you mean 'i don't know'? (Y/N), it's the day of our fucking wedding and you pull this? What are we to you, what am i to you?!" After the initial shock, the fury began to seep back into Thomas's tone and when he stepped forward you cowered a little bit, suddenly feeling like a child caught playing dress up in their mother's wedding gown.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You knew you shouldn't be the one to be flushed in the face and yelling, but the memories of what it felt like to catch Thomas, your fiancé, cheating twice refreshed in your brain, and it was like he tore into those wounds all over again, like they never healed in the first place.

"It means, do you love me still?!" He spit a little when he shouted, and you blinked when some of it landed on your lip.

You peered over at Newt, standing there like you and Thomas were contemplating whether he should live or die.

Either way he'd lose Thomas or you.

Or both.

Your heart hurt, and you missed him even though he was just a few feet away.

Then you looked at Thomas, you really looked, and you didnt see your husband or your fiancé, you just saw a stranger on the street.

Your heart felt nothing.

It beat steady and average and healthy, it didn't pick up the tempo or feel like the fourth of july in your ribcage or feel like it was bleeding like it did when Newt looked at you.

"No... I don't think i've loved you for a long time." Your throat felt dry and tight like there was an invisible rope tied around it and your words felt like sandpaper.

At last Newt stepped forward, by your side, realizing your decision.

You looked over at him and a swell of pride bloomed in your chest.

His stance suggested that he was shielding you from Thomas, but you kind of wanted him to step away.

You wanted Thomas to hurt you.

Because you deserved it. You'd hurt him…

...And Newt.

Lately Newt's hair had been looking more golden-brown and dull russet, and less the hay-blonde it had been when you first met.

Lately, his smiles had been tired, quirking up at only one side of his mouth and the bags stood out underneath his eyes like bruises.

Lately he'd been loving you.

It almost had a bitter irony to it, the fact that two people so profoundly unhealthy for each other would need each other this much.

Things like you and Newt shouldn't last.

Things like you and Newt burn out like 79 cent tea candles, blazing too hot, too fast.

_'Love shouldn't be like a drug.'_ You thought, tearing your gaze away from the boy.

"You don't love me?! That's...Well, that's just all too predictable of you, (Y/N)." Thomas tugged at this tie, tossing it to the ground without so much as glancing its way as it fell in silence, twisting and spiraling downwards like a black ribbon.

You noticed that a couple of guests were exiting the chapel, darting their heads around in puzzlement.

You spotted Teresa, exiting the side door of the church and jogging over.

You expected her to come to your side and beckon you inside the church, but she slowed her jog and stood next to Thomas, with a frown tainting her delicate features and milky skin.

"What's going on here?" She barked, a little more aggressively than you'd anticipated.

_'Wait, why the hell is she holding Thomas's wrist?!'_ You thought, completely ignoring her question.

You realized Newt was holding onto your wrist too, but his hold was less possessive and more comforting.

Teresa was clinging to Thomas like a parasite.

A sickening laugh bubbled at the back of your throat as the reality of the situation set in.

"What is this? Midsummer's Night Dream?!" You shouted, gaining some confidence in your skin and feeling less and less like a cornered animal.

The 3 just glanced between each other, searching for any mutual confusion.

Well, obviously no one understood your Shakespeare reference.

"You were cheating on me too, Thomas." You spoke slowly, like a teacher explaining something to a child, meaning to sound condescending.

Teresa jerked her hand away from Thomas's wrist, but it was too late.

Thomas's dumbfounded expression revealed all.

"You asshole!" Newt leapt forward a little, so you brought out an arm to hold him back.

Thomas was fuming too.

"You're one to talk!" He spat, turning away with Teresa wiping at his forehead dotingly.

"So what now?!" You screamed at him, recalling all the money you'd saved up for the reception.

He didn't even turn, he just raised an arm and called back "So now you find a new ride home, (Y/N)."

It hurt you a bit that he didn't seem to care, that he almost sounded relieved.

But then Newt smiled at you and pressed his lips to your ear, and as you closed your eyes shut you didn't feel so sad anymore.

* * *

EPILOGUE 

_13 MONTHS LATER_

"Newt."

You leaned against the doorframe, his name catching a bit in your throat when you saw that he wasn't wearing anything but a towel around his waist.

He'd just gotten out of the shower so his hair was plastered around his forehead and rivulets of water streamed down his bare chest tauntingly.

He scrunched up his nose, roughly rubbing a towel through his hair, making it stick up in some places.

"Yeah?" He asked, walking over to you and guiding you by the waist to sit down next to him on your king sized bed.

You'd been married and living with Newt for months now, but you still got flustered when you ran into him in situations like this.

You'd never gotten used to the sight of him, and you still thought he was (sorry for being brusque) hot as hell.

You fiddled with your ring, not exactly sure how to tell him.

He grabbed your hands in his warm, damp ones and dipped his head down, trying to get a good look at you.

His brows were knitted together in concern.

"Are you okay (Y/N)? What's wrong?" He could help but succumb to the panic sprouting in his chest.

You looked at him and smiled, unsure of his reaction.

Would he be mad?

"I'm pregnant." You breathed out at last, sighing.

In the moment of silence that he didn't say anything your heart skipped a beat.

Then he was tackling you onto the bed and pressing small kisses all along your neck.

You laughed, trying to pushing him off, but elated that he was as happy as you were.

"I love you, i love you, i love you!" He said in between kisses.

He pulled back to beam at your face, propping himself upwards so he wouldn't crush you underneath him.

"Newt..." You said patiently.

"Yes, love? Are you going to ask me if i love you? Because the answer is and will always be yes."

"No, you idiot. I was going to ask you whether or not you realize you're almost completely naked?"

The smug grin fell off his face and he glanced down at himself with horror.

"What?" You asked, not daring to follow his gaze.

"The towel."

THE END

* * *

**A/N: Apologies if the writing got a tad lazy towards the end, i honestly kind of wanted to just finish this story already, so i may have rushed it.**

**Nonetheless, I hope you liked it Dani!**

**I'm sad to announce that i will be closing requests for a little while.**

**I might write one more prompt that i got PMed by a girl named Hannah, just because it was so interesting, but if not i'm going to take a little break for this fic and focus on my up and coming Mortal Instruments OC fic. **

**The prompt was a Mafia AU where you and Newt are in rival gang families (The Gladers and The Cranks) and you're assigned with kidnapping The Cranks' leader: Newt. The way she described it just sounded really cool. **

******Might not do it though, so no promises :(**

**By the way, i prefer you guys submitting in the comments rather than PMing me.**

**I _will_ write in this fic again if i feel like it, so please continue to send in requests, and if one day i feel like writing a Maze Runner imagine, i just might choose yours. :)**

**Thanks for taking time out of your day and reading this, i'm so grateful!**

**Please review. Reviews make me very happy :D**

**-timelordXatXhearts**


	13. Chapter 7: NEWT (Part 1)

**NEWT**

**Chapter 7:** Kisses Like Cuts

_For Lia_

* * *

I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck,

Or i did last time i checked.

_-Arctic Monkeys, 505_

* * *

"Lia, Lia, Lia…"

Newt's voice from behind you was deep and thick like syrup, but above all it was amused.

Amused in the way only a boy's could be after he's just messed with a girl.

It was like a game of "boys chase the girls" you recalled playing when you were young.

And how Newt loved to chase you round and round and round the deadly playground of the Glade.

You scoffed to yourself with irritation, your eyelids fluttering as you turned to face the boy with a stony expression.

"You called?" You shoved the bundle of wooden spears into his arms forcefully.

You almost grinned when you saw his adam's apple bob up and down nervously at the spark of fire in your eyes.

He coughed into his shoulder and set the weapons to the side.

You were in the storage closet and he was blocking the door. How perfect.

You made a point to glance at the exit and then back at him, raising an eyebrow with the trademark smirk you'd stolen from him.

"Need something, Newt?" You tried to lace as much distaste into his name as possible, but it didn't sound right.

"Just wanted to remind you for the seventh thousandth time that _i'm_ the one Alby assigned for putting away the weapons." Then he leaned in close so that the only air you two were inhaling were each other's steamy, quiet huffs of breath. "They're _mine_."

You swallowed silently, and he grinned smugly at the reaction he'd evoked from you, backing away.

The both of you were sweating now, only he was probably just sweating from the weapons training.

There was something about possessive-Newt that was extremely hot.

It was too bad that you hated his guts.

And you were almost positive he hated you too.

Newt always despised you, and at first you were hurt by it, but now it was what drove you to become the best Runner in the Glade.

You see, you had to learn to hate Newt.

You first arrived to the Glade soft and naive.

The first day he'd called you "kitten" and at first you thought it was a term of endearment, but then you came to notice the way he spat it when he said he wouldn't let you sleep in the Homestead, when he laughed and said you shouldn't be a Runner. Kittens were weak.

You weren't used to being disliked, you had to learn to hate his pretty smile when he pushed you harder during sparring practice, you had to learn to hate his smooth, muscular arms when they pressed into your gut, you had to teach yourself that his seashell pink lips weren't for kissing when they hissed profanities at you through gritted teeth.

Newt was a mean boy.

Just to you.

"Sexy french braids, though. They're a real turn on, Lia." He mocked cruelly, teasingly tugging on one of the two french-braid pigtails you had your hair done up in.

You swatted his hand away, and tried to shoulder past him, but to no avail.

He moved closer to one of the storage cabinets, pinning you against it.

With his chest this close to yours, you were afraid he might hear your heart pitter-pattering hard, like a hummingbird throwing itself against the cage of your ribs.

You jabbed your elbow with a grunt into his stomach, and he backed away, hunching over with a strained chuckle.

"They're for training, not your boner you slinthead." You tried to make your tone sound cold, but instead you sounded so extremely heated.

Your cheeks were flushed with red and the air you breathed in was hot and thin.

You bolted out of the storage closet before he could make another snide remark and make you blush angrily again.

He was just so good at making you so unbelievably frustrated, in the pull-out-your-hair, kill multiple Grievers sort of way.

And then he would wink at you and start the war of emotions inside your head all over again.

The light flooded in from the Glade and you squinted, bitterly yanking the two french braids out of your hair and speed walking as fast as you could from that dark, dingy storage shed.

You saw Chuck's eyes light up from across the Glade and he began to prance over.

You rolled your eyes and almost wanted to send him away, as you weren't in the mood.

But poor Chuck had no other friend in the world and he'd probably been waiting hours for you to finish up training.

You smiled weakly at him, but didn't look over again as he began his routine before-bed rambling.

"I saw you go in that there weapons shack with ya boyfriend-"

"He's not my boyfriend!" You snapped, combing out your braid-wavy hair and rubbing at your eyes.

You picked up your pace in an attempt to lose him, but he apparently didn't get the memo, as he only lengthened his stride.

"What do ya mean, Lia?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused.

You halted abruptly and he nearly rammed into you.

You grabbed both sides of his face and explained calmly.

"Newt is neither "my boy" or "my friend". Got it?" You slapped one of this cheeks playfully,but he still looked bewildered.

"But i heard him in the Homestead the other night telling the other boys if they ever messed with you he'd bash their skulls in." He countered.

You frowned.

"How…sweet?"

It just didn't make sense. Maybe Chuck was lying?

"And also he's the one that drops off the blankets in your sleeping quarters when it gets real cold, isn't he?" Chuck questioned again, beginning to drift off towards where the boys slept as the Doors boomed shut and the sun drooped low under the cover of the Maze wall.

"Load of klunk, Chuck!" You called back, back pedaling towards the Map Room where you slept.

"G'night Lia! Don't let the Grievers bite!" He laughed.

You entered the Map Room with a smile on your face, and then proceeded to open to side-door that led to your sleeping quarters.

You sighed, glancing down at your pitiful sleeping bag, box of possessions and stack of messily folded clothing.

Your "room" was about the size of a janitorial closet.

Having your own space did have its perks though, like for instance you got to spread out a little more.

But it did get a lot colder in here. And a lot lonelier.

But sometimes you'd wake in the dead of night to find a thick blanket had been tucked around you, one that smelt like earthy pine needles and soap and boy. Sometimes there'd even be a hot canister of chicken noodle soup.

The notion that Newt could be the one to do that made you want to laugh.

And cry a little too.

You didn't know if you liked him, it was hard to when all he did was make you feel like shit, but you were attracted to him.

But if he knew you'd never hear the end of it.

You felt like a stupid, silly girl for loving things that destroyed you.

And he did have a habit of emotionally wrecking you a lot.

You groaned at all the thoughts swirling around in your head and bumping into one another and fell dramatically onto your sleeping bag.

The night was fairly mild, with only a skin prickling breeze wafting through the humid air like a water snake through a creek.

You kicked off your slacks and decided to stay in your black underwear and plain white t-shirt for pajamas.

The temperature was higher than your cautiousness.

You nuzzled your face into your pillow and immediately felt guilty for wanting it to be the crook of one blonde boy's neck.

_'He hates you. Stop being stupid.'_ You mentally muttered to yourself.

But it was half-assed and you were tired and he was attractive so you continued to pretend it was him and wished you had a bit more self-restraint and a bit more shame.

* * *

The small, echoing squeak of the Map Room door's rusty hinges.

The lonely sound of footsteps.

Someone entering your sleeping quarters.

You forced your sleep heavy eyelids wide open, sweeping your legs across the floor and colliding hard with someone's ankles.

"Shuck!" You heard someone exclaim.

Reaching over towards your bedside oil lamp, you turned the dial.

The room flickered to life in a burst of orange light and revealed the intruder.

"N-Newt?" You sputtered out, propping yourself up and pulling your blanket up to over your bare legs.

Newt just stood there dumbfounded with a thick blanket under one arm and a knot in his brow.

His hair was sticking up on one side like he'd just woken up.

A few moments passed of silence between you two. But the silence wasn't filled with nothing, it was extremely personal and building and swelling and ready to explode.

You broke it with a, "What are you doing in here?"

He broke out of his daze, hesitantly setting down the blanket by your feet and scratching the back of his head.

"Uh.. I, I just thought you might be cold." He let out a big breath of air and glanced at your eyes to see if they were on him, averting his gaze when he saw that they were.

They had been this whole time.

You saw his hand move towards the door handle, so you did the only thing you could think of to stop it.

You grabbed it.

It stopped moving immediately and tensed up a bit before relaxing in your grasp.

You released it and it fell limply at his side, numb.

You planted your hand on the shelf beside you, using it to pull yourself upwards so that you could face him.

There was so much anger and confusion in his eyes, his mind must've been a hellhole.

And all his glances at you were chaotic, his eyes so dark in the dim lightning they were almost obsidian.

His knuckles whitening on the metal shelf he was gripping, the tremble in his lip, his eyes darting towards you then away from you.

Right then you realized just how hard he was trying to hate you.

"Talk to me, Newt." You begged, frowning at him.

"No." He hissed, and it sounded a little childish.

You groaned and slammed your hand against the metal shelf, making it rattle in protest.

He winced, but still didn't look at you, well not really. His eyes were empty like black marbles, the surface reflectant and distant.

"You don't hate me." You said, your voice sounding embarrassingly hopeful.

"YES I_ DO_!"

His outburst made you jump back and you felt the back of your head collide with the shelf behind you in an iron kiss.

You were really seething now, sinking to the ground and clutching the back of your head with your eyes shut tight.

You felt an arm on your back and tried your hardest not to melt into it.

Everything was comfort and pain.

"Oh my god… I'm so sorry…" You heard him murmur, his voice irritatingly soothing.

"Go away!" You retorted. "I don't want you here anymore!"

You felt hot unwanted tears tickling your bottom eyelashes.

And you weren't even crying about hitting your head.

You were crying because of _him_.

He stood up pacing back and forth, his face littered with worry.

"I'm so sorry, Lia.." He mumbled, more to himself than you.

Newt. Sorry?

You looked up to him and slowly rose to your feet, taken aback.

"What… I don't underst- Newt! You were so mean to me!"

He cast you a longing look, his eyes pleading.

"I know.. I know! But I never wanted to hurt you!"

"But you hurt me everyday, Newt! Don't you get it?! You shut me down and make me feel like klunk-"

He silenced you with a finger against your lips.

Sitting, he guided you down next to him.

"Lia," he explained, trying to find the words, his hands shaking in his lap, "When you first came to the Glade, I felt something. Something like… like a connection of some sort i guess?"

You shook your head, not understanding.

He laughed sadly and grabbed your cold hands in his warm ones making you shudder.

"Listen, what i'm trying to say is i know you. I know your laugh and your lips and look of your face when you're determined. And i was terrified of that, of remembering, so i'd been trying to block it out. To block you out. I guess i thought the only way to do that was to be an asshole-"

You punched his shoulder good-naturedly and chuckled to yourself. He swayed from side to side, brushing against you just a little bit.

"You're an idiot, Newt. You could've told me." You said. "Now i don't know what to do. Now that i know you don't hate my guts, i mean."

You both sighed and the oil lamp stopped flickering, finally settling into a steady still.

"You look beautiful." He said at last. "Really, you do!" He exclaimed when you snorted.

"No. I don't." You deadpanned with only the slightest quirk of your lips.

The way he was staring at you made you squirm and feel small.

"No really," He continued, "With the bedhead and your eyelashes in the dark and the shadow of your lips with the lamp light-"

"Please don't." You cut him off.

"Wow, you're really good at not letting people love you." He wasn't letting up.

You hugged your legs closer to yourself.

"I'm afraid, Newt."

"Of what?"

"That, after all this crap, I might actually like you back?"

There was another long pause, a comfortable one where the two of you just listened to each other breathe.

Then he grinned deviously and you got in your playful mood again.

"I saw the way you were holding that pillow, Lia. And I heard you mumbling in your sleep." He said snidely. "What was it that you were saying? 'Kiss me'?" He started to pull you into his lap and you let him.

He was warm and the night was cold.

You felt his face up against your cheek.

"Want me to fulfill that wish, love?" He whispered into your ear, his hands massaging your shoulders and rubbing away the goosebumps.

But it was still so odd seeing Newt so gentle and docile.

You were used to him sweaty and hot and raw and angry.

So just for the sake of old times you leaned in really close really slow and pressed your lips to his ear.

He thought he knew what you were going to say, he thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but you wanted him mad.

You pulled away just a little bit and whispered, "Who said i was thinking about you?"

His smile fell at first, but then he caught onto your game.

He lifted you up and pressed you against the only wall in the room that didm have shelving.

Holding you up by your waist, he was eye to eye with you.

"Oh you're in for it now, Lia." He breathed out. "I want you to tell me i'm the only one, tell me you're mine."

_'Tell him you're his.'_ You told yourself.

But then you had an idea, a completely consuming one.

_'You really shouldn't!'_

But the words were coming out of your mouth before you could prevent it.

"Make me."

* * *

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**A/N: Hey there, guys!**

**So i took a little break from my Mortal Instruments fic and had enough time to whip up one request!**

**I hope you liked it Lia, Part 2 is where all the drama and kissy stuff is going to happen ;)**

**I should have that posted soon, as i've already outlined what i want to happen in it and all that good stuff.**

**Thanks for sticking with me guys!**

**I can't wait to see the movie :)**

**-timelordXatXhearts**


	14. Chapter 7: NEWT (Part 2)

**NEWT **

**Chapter 7:** Kisses Like Cuts

_For Lia _

PART 2

* * *

"Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

'Cause i always do

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

_-Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

It was either because he was so close or because the moon was on fire, but suddenly the night was searing hot and the air became too thin to suck in, all of your breaths becoming as desperate as your hands on his back.

Everything was Newt.

He'd slammed you against the wall and the entire Map room shook a little, he grinned at the result.

The look in his eyes as you'd said "Make me." should've made you scared, but angry, passionate love had a sadistic sense of thrill to it, it burned intense and bright and fast.

"Watch me." He growled.

Your eyes widened when you saw his head duck down and felt his wet lips on your hip bone, right above your underwear.

He trailed sloppy kisses all the way up your side, biting down ever so slightly, just enough to make you shiver and whimper.

You tried to squirm away and pull his face up to yours but his arm dug harder into your stomach, constricting you.

The friction of his jean-clad knee pushed up between your thighs was too much to bear.

And then there was _him_ on top of it all.

And he was everywhere, his lips by your navel and brushing over your collar bone, his hands rubbing circles into your back and running up the back of your neck.

"Newt." You said, your tone somewhere between a threat and a beg.

"Behave." He shushed you. He was persistent, and you knew what he wanted to hear.

You tried to urge him in other ways, gripping his head and feeling up his hair between your fingers.

For a moment it worked, and his breath hitched and his neck shuddered, but then he bit down on his lip and shook his head defiantly.

Newt kissed the side of your neck hard and your nerves were on fire again.

"Say it." He muttered against your jawline, even himself losing some self-restraint himself with all the teasing.

You just wanted to taste how his lips taste, was that too much to ask?

"I-I'm yours." You caved in.

He pulled back from your face to smirk with satisfaction and your heart fluttered with relief.

But when he leaned in again, he only kissed the outermost corner of your mouth, just the scarcest graze of lips on skin.

You forgot exactly how good he was at getting you frustrated.

"What was that?!" He said, awfully pleased with the writhing mess he'd made of you, "I didn't quite hear you?"

"I'm _yours_ Newt!" You shouted, beyond heated. "Just kiss me already!"

His hands were up your shirt and on your arched back the moment the words left your lips.

The second the arm on your midsection eased up, you fiercely crushed your lips into his, the tingling in your mouth already starting as he cupped either side of your face.

You felt his tongue slip into your mouth and the knot of heat in your lower stomach wound tighter.

He pulled away from you to pant out the words "You have no idea how long i've been waiting to do that." only to dive right back in.

You wanted that boy like an addict wanted drugs.

And that was why your world crumbled down around you the way it did, in a great, big, creaky boom, when you heard the Map Room door being swung open.

You had to wrench Newt away from you, and you instantly felt colder.

He set you down hastily, and you immediately pushed him (maybe a little too hard) behind the metal shelf opposite of you just as your door lurched open, with whining rusty hinges and squeaky wood-splints.

"Knock knock?" The young voice said, and a short, round boy came out from behind the door, cradling something in his arms.

Thank god.

It was only Chuck. Clueless, clueless Chuck.

Maybe he wouldn't notice the few curls of hair plastered to the sweat around your forehead or the fact that there were bruises that weren't from training spotting your neck like constellations dotting the sky.

Chuck straight away sat down on your lumpy, flattened sleeping bag, being so used to your room.

He was the only boy you'd ever brought in there.

Well, until now.

You were hyper-aware of Newt, his presence like a breath on the back of your neck.

"What are you doing here, Chuck?" You said perhaps a bit too harshly.

Well he _did_ just interrupt something very important.

He only smiled up dumbly at you.

"I brought bread." He offered.

Chuck opened his arms to reveal what they'd been cradling and two massive loaves of bread tumbled out.

Bread? How random.

But it was Chuck after all, you should've known to expect miscellaneous bits of food to just out of the blue appear in his hands.

"Nice?" You tried awkwardly, making sure to sit down looking towards the shelf where Newt was so that Chuck was facing away from it.

You loved that Chuck was so innocent that he didn't even notice you were only in a thin shirt and your underwear, he just handed you a loaf of bread and started humming.

He was a good friend.

"I planned for a sleepover! The bread is from the kitchen." He explained proudly. "I snuck right under Frypan's nose, the shuck-face will never know!"

You saw Newt raise an eyebrow, but averted your gaze immediately, afraid Chuck might wonder what you were gaping at and turn as well.

Newt ended up having to stay there for two hours while you and Chuck played games like 'Would You Rather?' and 'Desert Island'.

In one game of 'Kiss-Marry-Kill' you made sure to loudly state that you'd never kiss Newt because he's a gross boy with cooties (he stuck his tongue out at you, and then made a kissy face) and you chose to marry minho, kiss Winston and kill Newt. You specified "with a wooden spear".

So after a few hours of laughing, sideways glances towards a certain shelf, and bread, Chuck finally drifted off into sleep and you turned off the oil lamp.

Silence. Darkness. The sound of crickets chirping.

How long had you been waiting in the dark?

You wondered if Newt had snuck out earlier, the thought saddening you a bit, but making sense.

You wouldn't blame him if he had, you just wondered if he'd still treat you like klunk tomorrow, or if things would be different now that his 'secret' was out.

Your breath caught in your throat when you felt a kiss on your temple.

Newt.

The door swinging open in its high pitched groan.

Footsteps running off, the sound a bit less lonely.

Newt's lingering touch.

**The End.**

* * *

**A/N: Sorry guys.**

**I made this one more imagine-y. Usually i try to have some plot, but just a good ol' fashioned kiss scene seemed appropriate because why not?**

**Tell me if you like this style better or if you prefer my usual!**

**I was just PMed a really good prompt though, so please stick with me through this rough spot and look forward to Chapter 8!**

**It will be my first Thomas fic!**

**I'm sooo excited! It's another Modern AU (like Chapter 6), only this one is also a rival bands AU.**

**It's... different... but i'm eager to give it a shot and I think Ava will really like it.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, Lia!**

**I know Newt was OOC because he was mean!Newt in this one.**

**But not too mean ;)**

**Okay, i'm rambling.**

**Bye! PLEASE review, it makes my day :)**

**-timelordXatXhearts**


	15. Chapter 8: THOMAS (Part 1)

**THOMAS**

**Chapter 8: **Bitter Rivalries, Old Faces, And Rock & Roll

_For Ava_

Modern+Band AU

* * *

**PROLOGUE:**

He was Tommy to your grandmother,

He was Thomas to your parents,

And he was Tom to you.

You could easily recall the memory of the first time you felt his touch linger.

You were at a crowded, stereotypical, red-cup highschool party in a motel room that smelt of musk, old carpets, and teenager sweat.

'Waiting Game' by BANKS was vibrating the walls of the cramped double-bed room and all the other couples were too preoccupied with fumbling fingers on beer-sticky shirt buttons to notice the two of you.

Thomas was new and exciting and you knew that your father wouldn't approve, he was a concept much like a leather jacket.

He'd put his forehead against yours and flattened his palm to line up with your wrist.

Your heart was pulsing so hard he could've felt it through your fingertips.

He was older and you were 15 and had never even had your first kiss.

He'd asked you if you were scared and you'd said "Yes, but it feels good."

* * *

Thomas sung, he played on the school soccer team, he was charismatic and he thought about the meaning of life and his existence more than the average teenager.

He was 17 and you were 15 and he was nice to your family because he knew that you weren't.

On Christmas he'd play charades with your younger relatives, on the 4th of July he'd come swimming at your pool, splashing you until you finally jumped in, and on your birthday he'd come singing your favorite song to you with a guitar and a pearly-toothed grin.

Everything about him was musical, and he'd always said he wanted a rock band so that he could make it big.

You sang too, but you'd much rather listen to his voice than use your own; you were shyer back then.

He helped you write those stories and poems you'd make, you'd watch Game of Thrones every Sunday night together with blankets to hide your faces during the gory scenes, you annoyed each other sometimes, and you had improv photo-shoots every once in a while too.

It may not have been perfect, but looking back on it, it sure as hell felt that way.

He only every left your side to talk to his track team friends (Aris and Newt) about Marvel or Skyrim, but he'd text you the entire time.

You could be yourself in front of him, no makeup, no fake giggles and no holding your tongue.

You could be lame. You could be lame together.

It was like he was made to be your other half, to be your boyfriend.

* * *

But then he graduated and left for college and you only ever texted, so you forgot how good his voice sounded (especially saying your name), and all the stories you sent him were sad ones and the autumn reminded you of the fall semester you'd spent together and you knew that you never loved him as much as you missed him right then.

Everything felt terribly, terribly wrong, and soon you'd cry every time you picked up a guitar and your life had become a cliché Taylor Swift song.

Sometimes in the halls at school you thought you heard him calling your name.

You should've loved him more while you had the chance.

Once, after months of silence, you'd finally gathered all your guts to admit in a text,

"I really shouldn't say, but i miss you."

And when he texted back

"What do you mean you 'miss' me?! I'm only a couple of miles away!"

You wanted to say "No, you're a hundred _thousand _miles away from me, and you don't even know it."

But instead you just typed

"Sorry, wrong person."

* * *

Then both of you stopped existing to each other all at once for a little while.

All of his instagram photos were of college dorms and night-outs with new friends with new faces, and all yours were of highschool and the varsity soccer team and his past.

Hell, he'd even started that band of his!

Occasionally you'd get a text that said

"I'm missing you more than usual" or a "This reminded me of you" with a picture attached or even just "Did you see last night's episode?! So crazy!"

It was nice to know that he thought of you sometimes too, but it always felt like talking to a ghost, it felt like cutting open memories with a blunt knife.

He was still _there_ in the world, he just wasn't_ here_.

Sometimes you thought that it'd be easier if he said you never mattered and then he just never existed.

But then you never would've gotten to hear his laugh or be loved by him or taste how his lips did after he'd eaten his favorite strawberry popsicle.

Even the happy memories of you and Thomas made you sad, because they'd never happen again.

There was nothing as bittersweet as a memory and nothing was as sacred as you and Thomas together against the world.

He taught you how to love life, and you could have never thanked him enough for that.

* * *

And because he meant so much to you when you were young, you were considerably stricken when you ran into him at your 21st birthday party.

You'd loved that boy so much, but when he spoke to you again that night, he wasn't "Tommy", he wasn't "Thomas", and he certainly wasn't your Tom.

He was Thomas Ed Brently, the all-grown-up, arrogant singer and guitarist of the indie-rock band "The Gladers", and something like hatred bubbled up in your ribcage at the cocky boy who wore the face of your old lover.

So that very night you picked up your guitar again and began to sing.

Not your usual songs about lost love and romance, but fast-paced, lungs-on-fire, kill-your-boyfriend rock.

And that's where it all began.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**A/N: Hey there readers! **

**I had to do a prologue just to establish you and Thomas's previous relationship; sorry it ended up being so long.**

**I started weaving this backstory and i just couldn't stop.**

**The main story (which will begin the next chapter) will take place 3 years later when you are 24 and both of your bands have already made it big and are already rivals.**

**You and Thomas don't exactly HATE each other, the rivalry is strictly band-business, but your relationship with him isn't going to be all peaches and cream. **

**I have a really fun plot laid out for you and am excited to get to the meat of the story.**

**This fic will probably have more than 2 parts.**

**Thank you for the prompt Ava!**

**Feedback is appreciated! :)**

**-timelordXatXhearts**

**(P.S. i couldn't think of a clever last name for Thomas, so i just randomly put "Brently". It was either that or "Greenie". The "Ed" stands for Edison. Okay bye now.)**


	16. Chapter 8: THOMAS (Part 2)

**THOMAS**

**Chapter 8:** Bitter Rivalries, Old Faces, And Rock & Roll

_For Ava_

Modern+Band AU

* * *

The stage had a unique scent of its own: sweat, floor polish, and expensive leather. It was its own creature, pulsing to the beat of the drum.

The scent of it clung to your damp skin like perfume and made your heart throb with adrenaline.

It felt so odd to be on a stage and not be singing, it felt like you were waiting for the music to start but it never did.

It suddenly dawned on you that the interviewer had asked you a question.

You snapped your head back to her and straightened up in your chair.

"Er, sorry, what was that again?"

The crowd laughed and you smiled uneasily.

Brenda nudged your shoulder angrily and Teresa looked to the crowd with a fake grin.

The interviewer shuffled her cards with an irritated chuckle, her acrylic red nails drumming on her thigh sinisterly.

"Trying to avoid the question, now are we Y/N?!" When she smiled, her foundation creased.

Everything about this interview was uncomfortable, from the fluorescent, blinding lights to the cameras panning around you like eyes and the squeaky-clean plastic chairs.

When the interviewer still looked like she was waiting for something you combed a strand of straightened hair behind your ear.

"I asked you if the rumors about you and Thomas Ed Brently from The Gladers are true, dear." She spoke condescendingly, enunciating each syllable, and it made you feel like a small child. "Did you guys date?"

The crowded oohed and you could practically feel Teresa and Brenda groan.

That was the question every interviewer asked you at every interview, that and other questions about The Gladers, your 'rivals'. It was almost as if your companies forced the two of your bands to become enemies, as if it was some twisted joke.

They'd booked all your tours on the same dates, released your albums within days of each other, had 'fan-wars' between Thomas's 'Glader-girls' and your 'Runners', and even video taped an altercation between you and Thomas in which you told him to "drop dead" and he'd told you to "cry about it".

Nonetheless you sighed patiently. Your response was so rehearsed for this question, it was like a school spelling bee.

"Mr. Brently and I did date many years ago when we were very young, way before he started The Gladers and before i started Running For Grievers." You held up your chin a little, and you could feel the disappointment from the crowd.

They wanted something "juicy", but you didn't want to start any more drama than there already was.

Brenda patted your shoulder in approval.

"And do you still have feelings for Thomas?"

You nearly choked on your spit.

Now that question caught you off guard. The interviewer smiled sadistically at your loss of words.

"I-Um I.." You cleared your throat, gathering yourself. "Honestly, i don't feel that Thomas is the same boy he was when we were dating _at all_. He's a stranger."

There was yet another uncomfortable silence.

"Thank you for that, Y/N. Before you go, there's one more question i have for you." The interviewer's voice was snide and cocked like a loaded gun. You got that stage-induced, eyes-on-you, heart pounding rush of adrenaline, but this time it made your stomach twist. What was she going to ask?

"We all know that your bands are business-rivals, but is there any actual hatred between you and Thomas?"

_'No. No there's not.'_ You thought.

"Like i said," You smiled a little, but you felt like your eyes looked sad. "I barely know him. He's a stranger."

_'Liar. You hang out with Minho and Newt all the time. You used to feel something for Thomas.'_ Your mind tried to guilt you out, but the interviewer was already turning to the crowd and away from the couch that you, Teresa, and Brenda were sitting on.

"That was the band Running For Grievers!" The lady paused to let the crowd roar and whoop and scream 'I love you Y/N!'. "Get ready for our next guest on Band Week, The Gladers!"

Your heart dropped deep among the wailing of teenage girls as they had the same realization as you.

Thomas Ed Brently was backstage.

The girls went wild as the lights dimmed to a dying yellow.

Had he been watching this entire show?

"C'mon, Y/N!" Brenda snapped you out of your daze by dragging you off the couch and back behind the heavy, blue velvet stage curtain.

Was Thomas here?

Your eyes darted around the room and found two very tall boys.

One had designer aviators, a black blazer, and looked far too groomed.

Minho.

"Hey Y/N!" He smiled and you couldn't help but return it.

You felt his muscles bugle around you when he pulled you into a gentle, friendly hug.

He smelt like cologne and a brand new drum set.

Ultra-white teeth and speckless shoes, Minho was the epitome of a Hollywood Hills resident.

He was the male-model type in the band, the fangirls adored him.

You didn't even have a chance to respond to Minho because as soon as you pulled back, a body was immediately smashed into yours roughly.

Newt had you in a gentle head-lock and was ruffing up the top of your hair.

"Mortal enemies! Rival bands! Fighting to the death!" He growled with a smirk.

You pushed him away, laughing and then crashed back into him with a bear-hug, nearly toppling him over.

"Newt! What the hell?! I haven't seen you in forever, where have you been?!"

He looked down at you in his arms and his mouth quirked up at the corner.

"Ya know, here and there and everywhere." He pulled away and ran his fingers through his gelled-quiff.

Well that was Newt for you, playing up the mysterious, charming lead-singer vibe he had.

He was all cigarettes and beat-up converse and leather jackets and song lyrics scrawled onto tea-stained napkins.

"Pretty boy." You mocked him.

He only winked and threw you a sideways grin.

"Damn right." He said.

You really did miss Newt, he was one of your closest friends, despite the whole band-rivalry thing.

He was just so extremely hard to get a hold of, sometimes he just dropped off the face of the earth when he didn't feel like existing anymore.

You couldn't get mad at him though, he needed to not be himself sometimes, to not always be the cool, smooth-talking lead singer.

If you followed the lines of the veins branching his wrists you'd see faded white ribbons where he'd sliced them open back in high school.

He used to get depressed, he used to sink so small inside himself until he was just a murmur in a shell.

He tried to commit suicide senior year, and you remembered how much it tore Thomas up.

Newt was better now, but the scars never really went away, and sometimes he acted reckless to not get bad again.

It didn't make sense, but not much about your friend did.

The fans called him angel-boy because of his voice, and you thought they should hear Thomas's, but Thomas didn't sing any songs for the band, he only wrote them.

Then, as if he read your mind, Thomas was behind you.

"Don't I get a hello? Or is it just 'stranger-danger'? You did call me "stranger" didn't you?" His tone sounded playful enough, but his voice had a steel edge like it always did around you.

You shuddered and turned around slowly.

"Thomas." You said stonily.

"Stranger." He retorted.

"Listen, about that-" You began, but he cut you off quickly.

"So do you normally consider people you've kissed 'strangers'?"

Poor, gentle Thomas could only ever seem hurt when he tried to be cross with you. He was the 'sweet one' in the band, but he sure didn't act that way around you.

"That was forever ago. Get over it." You spat. Your heart pulsed weakly, and it ached just a little bit, like an old wound.

How did things get so bad between you two?

"Way ahead of you." He pushed by you just as the interviewer said "Give a warm welcome to The Gladers!" and the crowd cheered accordingly.

Minho walked past you to the stage too, flashing you a sorry expression.

"Come to the club on the corner of Sunset Boulevard tonight. It's brand new, you'll adore it. Bring the girls." Newt whispered into your ear with a pat on the back as he jogged to catch up with the other boys who were already on stage.

Usually going to clubs wasn't your thing, as your distressed blue jeans, plain crop top, and purple dipped-dyed hair proved, but right now being sober didn't seem all that great and getting lost in a strange place where the music played louder than your thoughts did.

* * *

Brenda ended up staying at home (you, Teresa, and Brenda all lived in the same house), she said bitchy interviewers made her tired and she'd rather watch Teen Wolf than have some dumb jock sweat on her.

Part of you felt the same, but Teresa said she didn't want to go alone and you just really, really wanted to get drunk right then.

After Teresa squeezed into a shiny gold dress that molded to her body like foil and you put on another pair of torn-up blue jeans, your driver Marco picked you up in a black mustang with the windows tinted too dark to see into.

The entire car ride Teresa rambled on about how she wanted to collaborate with Drake or Fall Out Boy on the next album and you nodded occasionally, not really listening.

You told yourself you were only going because you barely got to see Newt, but you knew that if Newt was there Thomas would be there too.

There was something so addicting about seeing Thomas, even if he was yelling at you most of the time.

When the driver slowed, you looked out the window.

You were in front of a large, bright building with the neon words "Crank Palace" at the top and dozens of people pooling at the entrance and trying to sneak by security.

How could a brand new club be this crowded at only 9 PM?

"Get out! Come on!" Teresa urged you, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

But you pointed at some paparazzi waiting at the entrance and shook your head.

"No. Not yet, T. Marco, take us through the back entrance."

Marco gave you a curt nod and drove to the back of the club.

You breathed in slowly.

_'Just don't make a fool of yourself, Y/N.' _

* * *

You were working on your fifth drink before you'd even spotted Newt.

You'd seen him wave across the club dance floor and his mouth moved, but you couldn't make out the words over the deafening music and the three boys chatting your ear off from the bar stools next to you.

Newt jogged over and you downed your drink, walking away from the boys hanging over you at the bar as if they hadn't been talking to you at all.

They probably were only talking to you because you were famous, you were wearing jeans and a baseball shirt for crying out loud, you weren't exactly "sexy" at the moment.

"Drunk already, Y/N?!" Newt shouted, but his voice still sounded muffled and distant.

And the fact that your head was swimming didn't help either.

You leaned a little against him for support.

He chuckled, guiding you to the corner of the hot, crowded club.

"Everyone is upstairs, c'mon doll. Thomas is about to sing."

"M'kay." You drawled, letting him lead you past a security guard and up a set of stairs.

* * *

The second floor of the club was much different from the first.

For one thing, the lights were on, and there were only important people talking about important things and leaning against expensive furniture with their expensive clothes.

The layout was much like a house.

There were white marble floors with a matching marble fireplace and a living room, there was even a partially closed-off kitchen in the corner.

"V.I.P." Newt said, winking cheekily, and running off to the microphone stand that was set up by a stool in front of the regal fireplace (that you doubted actually could hold a fire).

Newt leaned down into the microphone.

"Hi, I'm Newt, lead singer and bass player for The Gladers." He coughed to the side. "And my good lad Thomas is going to sing a song he wrote just last night, so cheer it up!"

The people set down their champagne glasses and beer bottles to clap.

You found a seat on the couch to watch, and two other people sat by you, murmuring something along the lines of "Hi, i love your music".

You nodded absent-mindedly at them, eyes glued to the front.

Thomas sat down on the stool, adjusting his guitar before he started strumming softly.

_"She was my baby girl,_

_As violent as the sea_

_oh, oh_

_She was my poison flower_

_She's going to break me_

_That's the only thing, i'm sure_

_She is gonna break me_

_and i'm going to let her_

_So sweet sweet rain._

_be my sunshine_

_be my dark_

_be there tapping on my window pane_

_oh my pretty hurricane_

_She was the blackest form of art_

_her hair's the darkest shade of plum_

_just like her shadow-violet heart_

_so poison flower break me_

_drive your nails right on through_

_i don't care how much it hurts_

_as long as i'm broken by you_

_So sweet sweet rain._

_be my sunshine_

_be my dark_

_be there tapping on my window pane_

_she's my pretty hurri-cane…."_

The song's mellow tune drifted on through the second floor, but you stopped listening after the second verse.

There was that one line that struck you.

"Her hair's the darkest shade of plum" he'd said.

Maybe he was looking at you, or maybe it was just your drunken mind playing tricks on you.

All you knew was that Thomas was singing a song about a girl he loved with hair like plums and you'd just dyed your hair purple only two days ago.

After downing another bottle of confidence, you'd decided to confront him after the song was over.

Why would he write a love song about a girl that he hates?

It just didn't make sense.

* * *

The second Thomas finished his song, the crowd closed in, drowning him with praises.

You lifted your head, trying to get just a look at him, but he had disappeared.

You swore, and lifted your beer to your lips again, only to taste nothing.

You looked down at your hand in confusion.

Had you finished it already?

With a groan you decided to head to the kitchen to fetch another drink, the second story living room was getting more and more cramped anyway.

You were wishing more and more you'd stayed home to watch Teen Wolf with Brenda.

Scott McCall probably wouldn't write a song about you and then act like he hated you.

You pushed the door to the kitchen open, fuming, only to find that Newt, Minho, Thomas, and one other boy were already in there.

"Hey there pretty lady!" Newt called cheerfully, but you ignored him.

"Thomas, i need to talk to you, it's about your song."

Thomas payed you no attention and continued his conversation with the other boy you didn't know.

You were drunk and angry, and Thomas knew it.

"Thomas!" You almost whined. You never called out to him. Was he enjoying this?

The thought made you even more furious.

You needed to get his attention, so drunken-you did the first thing that popped in your mind.

You roughly grabbed the unsuspecting Minho and shoved him against the refrigerator, pressing your lips against his hard and lifting your knee up between his legs.

One second he was saying something against your lips in protest, the next he was being pulled away forcefully.

"What the hell?!" Thomas shouted in Minho's face.

Well that got his attention.

You would've smiled, but Thomas, for once, was actually scaring you.

A vein was visible on his forehead and his fists were nearly white.

"Relax, Tommy! It's a party!" Newt tried to ease him up. "And if Y/N is giving out free kisses, i thought you'd be first in line-"

_WHAM. _

Thomas's fist met Newt's nose, and Newt doubled over, holding his bleeding face.

You had the sneaking suspicion that Thomas might've been drunk too.

"THOMAS!" You yelled, but he was already storming out of the kitchen, the door swinging back and forth like the wing of an injured bird.

Minho had his hands braced on the sink and was wide-eyed, in shock.

You quickly got some paper towels from the counter and knelt down by the crouching Newt, dabbing at his bloody lip and nose dotingly.

"It's okay, Y/N," Newt said with a sad, hysterical laugh, "I deserved that one."

"What the hell just happened? Y/N just kissed me. And did THOMAS, OUR 'sweet' Thomas, just punch someone?" Minho exclaimed, rubbing at his chin. "I don't know whether to be proud or angry."

Newt shook his head and chuckled, and you looked at him incredulously.

Despite his bleeding face, he was the only one who seemed light-hearted about this.

"Newt, I just don't get it." You said helplessly. "Why would Thomas get mad at me kissing Minho-"

"Well," Newt interjected. "I wouldn't say you 'kissed' Minho, you kind of just assaulted his face-"

"NEWT. You know what i mean. Does he…." You tried to find the words. "Does he _like_ me or something?"

Newt paused.

"I don't know. All i know is that Thomas writes most of our songs about you."

You thought about it.

"Like 'Traitor Girl' and 'Bitch'?" You asked with your hands on your hips.

"No," Newt said slowly, "Like 'Wish I'd Never Left You' and 'Hurricane' and 'Summer Girl In The Wintertime' and 'She Is The Starlight' and 'Beautiful Mess' and-"

"Okay, okay! I get it. So pretty much every single one of your hit songs."

"Bingo." Newt responded in a nasally voice, his nose clogged with paper towel.

It was all so surreal, and those feelings from so long ago washed over you all at once like a wave.

"Do _you_ like _him_?" Newt asked suggestively, nudging your side.

"No." You flat-out lied, but he knew you too well to believe it.

"Fine then. Don't like him? Then kiss me like you did to Minho. You know singer's lips are extra strong, great for long, steamy make-out sessions-"

You slapped his shoulder and laughed.

"Fine! Fine!" You admitted. "Maybe I do. Maybe. I don't know." You buried your face in your hands, not sure of anything any more.

"Go talk to him." Newt said softly, in a more serious tone.

You nodded and headed back out into the fray.

'_You're gonna tell him! You're finally gonna tell Thomas that you feel the same!'_ As you mentally cheered yourself on, you felt yourself grow a little excited.

Okay, maybe a LOT excited.

Then you saw him and your breath caught in your throat like a butterfly in a net, helpless.

You'd forgotten just how disappointing people could be sometimes.

There was a girl pressed up onto his lap like a leech, giggling in his ear and making him smile just like you'd done so long ago.

And not just any girl.

This girl was wearing a shiny-star-sticker gold colored dress that clung to her hips and made her black hair stand out like ink.

Teresa.

And when Thomas met your gaze, his lips parting ever so slightly in shock, it all became too much and you bolted for the staircase, scrambling down as fast as you could in your intoxicated state.

"Y/N! Wait!" You heard a familiar voice call, and you ran from it.

You wove through the crowd, wobbling down one more set of steps before bursting out into the cold night world.

"Don't cry, don't cry." You said to yourself through gritted teeth, just loud enough for yourself to hear the sound of your wavering voice.

_'Pathetic.'_ You thought.

Then you were falling, tripping over the curb and into the street, hands on the black pavement.

"Y/N!" Thomas shouted.

He had followed you.

You felt his hands lifting your torso, warm and comforting and gentle.

"Get off me!" You screamed, tearing them off, and he backed away.

You heaved yourself up and jerked open the door to your car, Marco looked at you worriedly from the drivers seat.

You sat inside as quick as you could, ignoring Thomas's innocent, dumb-founded expression.

"Do you want to wait for Ms. Teresa?" Marco asked.

"No." You snapped, finally looking to Thomas. "Mr. Brently can take her home."

Only when the door slammed shut and you were safe behind black-tinted windows did you finally break down and let out a whimper, which led to a sob.

"P-Please, just take me away from here. Take me home Marco." You choked out.

Thomas's album-release party was in two days, and you didn't think you could bear going, you couldn't bear seeing him with Teresa.

Most of all, you wanted to make Thomas feel how you felt.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize if this chapter was a bit confusing! **

**It is going to get REALLY interesting though, this was just a filler-chapter.**

**Make sure to tell me what you think! **

**Also sorry i haven't updated in so long, i just started school and it sucks.**

**PLEASE REVIEW, it will seriously make my day :)**

**Also check out my 8tracks, it's 8tracks dot com /direwolve**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-timelordXatXhearts**


	17. Chapter 8: THOMAS (Part 3)

**THOMAS**

**Chapter 8:** Bitter Rivalries, Old Faces, And Rock & Roll

_For Ava_

Modern+Band AU

PART 3

* * *

"That's not a skirt, girl

That's a sawn off shotgun

And i can only hope you've got it aimed at me.

'Cause you have got that face

That just says

'Baby i was made to break your heart'."

_-Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

You'd woken up falling already.

No, not the metaphoric, sad kind, literally being toppled off your bed and thudding to the floor.

"What the hell?!" Your voice sounded raspy from sleep.

"Your alarm has been going for two freaking hours Y/N!" You heard the voice and saw mauve-painted toenails in front of your face and you knew it was Brenda.

Hoisting your torso up off the ground, you sat with your legs criss-crossed at the foot of your bed.

You frowned, eyes still squinty from just waking up.

"So you tried to kill me?"

Brenda scoffed and grumpily extended a hand to help you up, which you reluctantly accepted.

"Stop being dramatic. I pushed you off the bed Y/N, i didn't put rat poison in your Go-gurts. And besides, if i had to hear 'I'll Make A Man Out Of You' one more time i would've thrown your alarm out the window." With that, Brenda stalked out of the room leaving you alone with the sour, fuzzy taste of last-night's alcohol in your mouth.

When you looked in your vanity mirror you remembered exactly why you hated going clubbing: the morning after.

You'd been too tired to take of your makeup, so black mascara was smeared underneath your eyes like war paint, or something less poetic like an emo raccoon.

"I look like the grudge." You mumbled glumly to yourself, taking out a makeup wipe and vigorously rubbing at your entire face, hoping it would scrub away some of the sleep as well.

More than anything you needed a shower.

You grabbed your phone to check the time.

It was already 10:00, it was a good thing you had nothing to do today.

"Or do i?" You whispered confusedly to yourself.

You had a missed text from Newt, but ignored it because you had 3 missed calls from Minho.

Now _that_ was weird.

_'What? Why would he be-...…oh shit.' _

Memories of you pushing Minho into a fridge torrented back to you.

"Oh shit!" You said aloud this time, fumbling your phone in your hands to call him back.

He picked up immediately.

"Hey Y/N-"

"MINHO! Oh my god, i am so sorry about last night-"

"Relax! It's okay! You were drunk, so no worries. If you're not too busy meet me at the cafe on Rodeo Drive in half an hour, okay? We can talk."

You remembered the missed text from Newt.

You barely got to see Newt ever, and you hadn't really checked up on how he was doing.

But knowing Newt, he was probably half-way around the world by now, and this was more important.

You started to say "Yeah sure!" but realized that Minho had already hung up.

The phone beeped lonelily then faded to a static buzz.

So: shower, hang out with Minho, then make Thomas hurt like you did.

_'Today should be fun.'_ You thought sarcastically.

* * *

After you'd taken a shower and were all freshened up, you put on a simple, loose fitting white t-shirt and some light-wash skinny jeans.

It wasn't that you didn't have a sense of style, you just didn't care all that much about looks, you'd rather be comfortable.

But when Minho walked up to the cafe wearing a dolce gabbana button up and marc jacobs sunglasses, you did feel a tad bit inferior.

"Hey!" You said cheerily, suddenly glad you were out and about, and not sulkily eating ice-cream at home while watching Titanic.

"Well 'Hey' to you too!" Minho exclaimed, a little perplexed at your over-enthusiasm.

"I didn't know we were going to The Corner Coffee Garden! Don't you need to call like 3 weeks ahead if you want to get a table though?" You motioned to the cafe.

Minho chuckled, shook his head, and simply took a seat at one of the outdoor tables near the sidewalk.

"You're forgetting that i'm Minho from the Gladers."

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

Minho loved using his fame.

'Do you know who i am?' had to be one of his favorite lines ever.

The waitress came over and Minho ordered two vanilla lattes for the both of you.

There was an uncomfortable bit of quiet where the both of you sighed at the same time, in sync.

Newt was a silly, sensitive boy with an easy smile, and it was harder to talk to Minho as you'd only met him a year ago. This was really the first time you'd ever sat down to talk with him.

Funny how the talking part came up after you'd pushed him against a fridge and force-kissed him.

"So," Minho said, leaning forward onto the table.

"So?" You questioned, very well knowing what he was going to bring up next.

You spoke before he could though. "Have you seen angel-boy recently?" Minho saw through you and shook his head.

"No, no, no! Don't try to change the subject! But no, i haven't seen Newt. I got like 4 texts from him though. I've been too busy to respond."

You nodded in shameful agreement. You had a lot going on too, both outside and inside your head.

"So, we've concluded that i'm not madly in love with you." You said at last, ripping the band-aid off the subject quickly.

"Yes." Minho said slowly. "But the question is, who are you really madly in love with? Alby Gray the male model? Newt the lead singer?!"

"Umm, no." You answered hurriedly. "Definitely not."

"Then who?" Minho pressed, not looking up at the waitress as she set down your drinks.

You took a long, long sip of your drink before answering, ignoring how it scorched your throat.

"…. try Thomas the guitarist."

"I knew it!" Minho pointed at you and nearly leaped out of his chair.

You laughed at his reaction, covering your mouth with your hand.

"Damn," he sighed, "At first i thought you hated each other, but then… I don't know. You'd have to care an awful lot about someone to put all that energy and effort into hating them 24/7. And if the press knew! Wow! I mean, you guys are supposed to be rivals-"

Minho was cut off by the sound of a camera shutter clicking repeatedly.

_Snap! Snap! Snap!_

It was followed by a flash of white-light from the bush behind your table.

Minho stood up fuming, dropping his latte in the process.

"HEY!" He shouted, the veins in this arms bulging.

But the paparazzi had already ran across the street, carrying their cameras with them.

You groaned irritatedly, about to take another sip of coffee, but then stopped in your tracks.

The direness of the situation finally dawned on you, and you dropped your latte too, cradling your head in your hands.

"Oh god.. Oh God…." You said, voice muffled through fingertips.

The media would totally misinterpret this entire thing. You'd never been seen before with a member of The Gladers in public.

"It's okay, Y/N." Minho tried to console you. "They're gone now-"

"No! No, Minho, you don't unsterstand!" You saw his phone peeking out of his pocket and jutted a finger out at it.

"Check WICKEDstarz dot com, Minho. Check your twitter feed, or just google your name or something!"

He did was he was told, still not understanding what was going on.

You leaned over the table to read his phone.

And low and behold, the newest story on the WICKEDstarz website was "SCANDAL: Running For Grievers' Y/N and The Gladers' Minho Forbidden Lovers? New Photos And Reliable Resources Reveal The Hot, Steamy Romance-" Minho closed the webpage before you could read anymore.

"They think we're dating?!" He said in disbelief, staring blankly at his shoes.

"It's okay," you said confidently, flipping out your phone like a switch blade. "I'll have my publicity manager deal with it, she's great with-"

You stopped talking mid-sentence as Minho placed a hand over your phone screen.

"Wait, Y/N. We could use this." He continued when you still looked lost. "You said you wanted to get back a Thomas, right? Well how about we fake-date. Just until the party!" He added when your eyes widened at his proposition.

You had to give it to him, it was genius and it would make Thomas super jealous.

But wasn't that considered morally wrong or something?

"I don't know, Minho-" You began, but he had already had his heart set on the idea.

"Y/N, he wrote a song about you and then got with your best friend Teresa. And it's not like we have to kiss or anything!"

His plan was sounding more and more tempting.

You hesitantly put away your phone into your pocket, and with a mental 'Why the hell not.', turned to Minho's hopeful face.

"Okay."

"Alright!" He shouted a little too loudly. "But If you want to make him super jealous, somethings have got to change."

"Like what?" You questioned.

He looked you up and down. "Like that outfit."

You raised your eyebrows at him, crossing your arms. "Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

Now you really felt like an evil genius.

"I was thinking something black. Yeah, black and short."

To Be Continued.

* * *

**A/N: Hey Readers!**

**Please forgive me if this isn't one of my best.**

**I had to update sooner than normal because i'm getting a hecka lotta requests, and i want to do as many as i can.**

**There are probably going to be 2-3 more parts in this story, then i will do Renn's (one of my best friends), then Lise's.**

**Both of those are going to be Newt ones (you guys with your Newt!), then maybe someone will send me a Minho one.**

**I hope you guys are as excited to see jealous!Thomas as i am! **

**Oh, and one more thing, I just wanted to remind you that my preferred form of submission is sending it as a REVIEW. **

**I am getting way to many PMs, and i'm more likely to do it if it is a review. **

**Okay, okay, enough rambling!**

**Please review, and have a wonderful day!**

**-timelordXatXhearts**


	18. Chapter 8: THOMAS (Part 4)

**THOMAS**

**Chapter 8: **Bitter Rivalries, Old Faces, And Rock & Roll

_For Ava_

Modern+Band AU

PART 4

* * *

For millionaires, the boys sure did have a messy house.

It was a nice house, a very nice house, it was just littered with empty champagne bottles and dirty laundry.

Way up in the hills of hollywood, their house was all white and glass, just like the Cullens'.

The door echoed as it shut, thundering as you entered behind Minho as if it knew you weren't supposed to be there.

"It's okay," Minho assured you, tossing down his car keys on the couch next to multiple articles of clothing (including a bra, you weren't even going to ask about that). "Thomas isn't home."

Like most bachelor pads, there were countless pizza boxes stacked disgracefully on top of their expensive dining table.

You hadn't realized, but Minho was already half-way up the glass staircase.

He probably expected you to follow, but you were too busy gawking at your surroundings.

You sped-walked after him, newly purchased high heels clucking against the marble floor unpleasantly.

Their house was nothing like you expected.

To be honest, you couldn't believe you'd never been there before in all the years you'd known them.

And you'd known the boys back when they were still Ya Bad Boyz instead of The Gladers ("It's like Bad Boys, except with a 'Z' rather than an 'S'. For dramatic effect." Newt had clarified).

"This is it!" Minho announced when you cautiously entered his room.

The first thing you noticed about it was how clean it was (that was surprising), that and the fact that there was no door.

You stopped in the doorframe, tilting your head to the side of you.

"Missing something?"

Minho laughed like it was no big deal and then pulled you by the hand further into his room.

"Oh, yeah, about that, a couple months ago Newt thought i used his toothbrush so he kinda stole my door as revenge."

Practical jokes, bras, and pizza boxes.

Living with the boys sounded absolutely chaotic.

"Months!?" You exclaimed, setting down your shopping bags. "And you still haven't found it? Where the hell could someone hide a door?!"

"Good point." Minho said. "So! Go change into what i bought for you. I'll guard the door… Well, door_frame_."

After checking to make sure his back was to you, you threw off your clothes and shrugged into the short, body hugging black dress as quickly as possible. For a big, buff, drummer-dude, Minho sure did have an exceptional taste in dresses.

"Done!" You announced, shoving your old clothes into the shopping bags.

Minho spun around, walking towards you and excitedly rubbing his hands together.

"Much better! See, now i could date _that_!" He was beaming at you and it made you blush a little.

"Could you though?" You questioned, pulling down the skirt, which was slowly hiking up. "I mean, it's just so unrealistic! Like I can't believe Minho from The Gladers is trying to hit on me right now."

"Well, you shouldn't be surprised," A thick, British voice called lazily from behind Minho.

Minho moved aside to reveal a bed-headed Newt leaning his weight against the doorframe.

"He is a drummer. And he does like to_ bang_ things." He winked at you and Minho groaned.

Newt smirking at everything that moved and Minho groaning: that pretty much summed up their entire relationship.

You went forward to hug him, and he felt limp and weak in your arms.

You pushed him back to look at him and frowned.

Half-moon shadows stood out underneath his eyes like bruises, his hair was beyond disheveled, un-gelled and shaggily brushing the tips of his eyelashes.

The most alarming thing was his eyes, they were so unbelievably dark and unreadable, it was like staring at a tunnel, wondering if there was an end at all.

"You look like shit." You concluded.

"Wow, thanks Y/N, love you too. Well this piece of shit happens to be worth a couple million dollars-"

"I didn't mean it like that, you idiot! When's the last time you slept?" You grabbed his cheeks roughly, turning his head to each side and searching it for any signs of drug use, but you got nothing.

You could be such a mother sometimes.

"I mean, look at the bags underneath your eyes, Newt!" You added, giving him a stern look of disapproval.

He pushed your hands down away from him gently, shaking his face out of your grasp.

"But bags are the hottest accessory of the month, haven't you heard? And no," The joking left his tone and his hands began to tug at his shirt. "I haven't slept in a while. I've got these nightmares and-"

"Y/N." Minho interrupted, tearing your attention away from Newt. He had a wild smile on his face and was shaking his phone victoriously in his hand.

"We've got him. Thomas is at the studio with Teresa. It's game time."

Your heart fluttered meekly. This was actually happening.

It was like when you'd first kissed Thomas in that cramped Motel room all over again.

You grabbed you purse from Minho's bed and followed close behind him.

Just before you passed through the doorframe, a soft, clammy hand grasped your wrist.

"Wait." Newt said gravely. There was an odd hitch in his breathing. "I need to tell you something. Y/N, please don't leave me."

You looked from his hand to his face. There was something so weird in his phrasing, in those dark, dark eyes.

You pulled your arm away with a sorry look.

"Newt, i'm sorry. Really, i am. I'm just busy right now. It's about you-know-who. I have to go. I'll call you later though, alright."

"Promise?" He persisted, just as you started to move away. His over-sized t-shirt, blue pinstripe pajama pants, and bed head made him look a lot younger, a lot more vulnerable.

"When have i ever let you down, angel-boy?"

You flashed him a quick smile before dashing after Minho again.

* * *

You couldn't help but get a little bit jealous when Minho pulled up in front of the boys' recording studio.

Not only did they have their own building, separate from the main corporation, but it also served as a hangout, with bean bags strewn across the floor and a little cafe station in the corner.

The "chill" kind of mood of the place made you feel a bit over dressed, but Minho insisted that you looked 'smoking hot', to which you replied with "Thank you?".

Your heart beat faster and faster as Minho rattled through his key chain to find the right key to the building.

The suspense was killing you.

'Just open the damn door before i change my mind!' You wanted to shout, but instead you smiled anxiously at him.

The second the key clicked into place, this entire plan seemed like a bad idea.

"Wait, Minho. Maybe we shouldn't- oh my!"

Minho pushed into into the building by your lower back, giving you no time to protest.

Immediately you caught Thomas gaze.

You hadn't even been in the same room for one whole second and you'd already began your game of 'intense prolonged eye contact'.

It was just getting out of hand.

But now, his eyes broke from yours to to revere at the entire length of your body, his eyes widening and lips parting subconsciously.

You couldn't help but feel a little smug, making the well-spoken Thomas Brently speechless.

He quickly snapped out of it when Teresa smacked his shoulder abruptly.

"Uh..Uh.." He stammered, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

_'How embarrassing.' _You thought with a giggle.

You and Minho looked at each other with a shared incredulous grin.

Teresa stood up from where her and Thomas were sitting on the carpeted floor.

Judging by the beanbags and the hot chocolates, they were getting real cozy right then.

"Y/N," She said with a fake smile, looking you up and down, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Aaand you forgot how to use your voice. Great.

"Oh, we just came to hang out!" Minho covered for you, swinging an arm around you shoulder smoothly. "We had no idea you guys would be here!"

But Teresa wasn't through with you.

Why did she seem so angry that specifically you were here? It wasn't like your and Thomas's history together ever bothered her before.

"Nice outfit." She said through teeth, and you couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. "Have you been in my drawers?"

You grimaced at her and was about to make a not-so-kind remark, but Minho chuckled loudly before you could say anything.

"No! But she _has_ been in mine, if you know what i mean."

Both you and Teresa choked on your spit a little.

You gave Minho a "what the hell, man?!" look, but laughed awkwardly nonetheless.

"Oh, honey! Don't tell them that!" You sounded pathetic.

"I didn't know you two were dating. How long has this been going on?" Thomas finally spoke up.

You and Minho? That was not convincing at all, but you didn't care because Thomas seemed red-faced enough.

He'd clenched his cup of hot chocolate so hard that the styrofoam had broke and the liquid had streamed all over his hands.

"Tom!" Teresa exclaimed, turning to him. "You spilled your drink!"

_'No shit, sherlock.'_ You thought bitterly. Suddenly a new hatred had born for your once-best friend.

All because she'd called him "Tom".

You used to call him Tom.

"It was cold anyways." Thomas said, not breaking his gaze from you.

"Well!" Minho clapped his hands together, easing the awkward tension just a little bit. "Since we're all here, why don't we jam out a little!"

Minho left your side to fetch two guitars from the wall next to the recording booth, and suddenly you felt naked, standing alone in a too-short dress.

Suddenly Thomas was by your side.

"This way." He said, unusually kindly.

You gave him a feeble, but genuine, smile and let him pull up a bean bag for you to sit in across from him and Teresa.

Soon Minho had dragged a bean bag by your side too and was pushing a guitar into both your and Thomas's arms.

"Okay," He began, "So the only rule for the sing off is that all of it has to be improv."

_'So we're having a sing-off now?'_ You thought testily. This was just your cup of tea.

"Five lines each." You added, staring Thomas down.

He grinned.

You two could get so competitive. It was the angry intensity of it that really got you going.

He crinkled his nose at you.

"We're not singing about anyone in particular, now are we, Y/N?"

_'Be a good girl.'_ You could almost hear him say.

"Wouldn't dream of it, _Tom_." You stated.

"Then bring it on, _stranger_." He adjusted his guitar in his arms and cleared his throat.

But there was no way you were letting him sing before you.

You started strumming a pop tune and his eyes darted back up at you, taken aback.

_"Boy you wanna play with the big leagues,_

_This ain't dress up, it's dress down_

_You're oh so pretty when you frown._

_You want me bad, you want a swinger,_

_But you're not even the lead singer." _

You pouted sarcastically at him when you finished.

Minho "oohed" and Teresa squealed ecstatically, clapping her hands together like a seal.

Thomas only flexed his jaw, and you could see him trying to come up with different lines, now he knew you weren't messing around.

When he started playing, the pace was quick like an arctic monkeys' song.

_"I like her dressed in black, _

_that girl's a heart attack._

_She's a queen, oh she's crowned,_

_But she doesn't make a sound._

_Oh yes, she's funny, it's just rich._

_Oh what a pretty little bitc-" _

"O-KAAAY." Minho interjected. "I think we're done with the singing!"

"I don't know about you, _Tom_, but i'm just getting started." You said hotly.

"No, no, no!" Minho pressed, cautiously removing the guitar from your arms. "We are definitely done."

"Yeah, no, Minho is right!" Thomas agreed. You glowered at him.

"You need to cool off." He added.

When he placed a palm on your bare thigh you almost jumped.

"See? Your skin is hot to the touch." He concluded, removing his hand and leaning back.

Oh, he was such a tease.

You wanted to tell him that it wasn't because of him, but the red coloring your cheeks betrayed you.

"Thomas." Teresa tried to say his name patiently, but her voice was seething with urgency.

"Yeah, babe." He replied, but he was still looking at you.

She stood up and tugged his arm harshly.

"We need to talk. Outside."

She dragged him outside and the door slammed shut.

You and Minho sat in silence, catching only bits and pieces of their conversation.

'You were staring at her the entire time, making me look like a moron!'

'And?'

'_And_?! How about _and_ i'm your girlfriend?!'

You winced at that one.

"Minho," You whispered at last. "Maybe we should stop this. I mean just because i like him doesn't mean i have a right to tear apart their relationship."

"But Teresa is a bitch!" Minho whined.

You coughed loudly at that, in an attempt to cover up his outburst.

"Yeah!" You laughed. "She kinda is! But she's my friend. I don't know. It doesn't seem right."

"But technically, what are you doing that is so wrong? Looking hot? Having a boyfriend?" He countered.

Well, he did have a point.

But there was something twisted about trying to seduce your best friends boyfriend and pretending to date one of your other best friends.

It was all too much.

"Just… I don't know. Let's just go home. We'll figure this out at the party tomorrow." You said at last, too mentally exhausted to even think one more second about morals and best friends and most of all Thomas.

Minho nodded understandingly and stood, extending a hand to help you up.

When you got outside, Thomas was standing alone, facing the parking lot.

"Where's Teresa?" Minho asked innocently, but the nudge he gave you suggested otherwise.

"She left, she's pretty pissed. Don't really know why though." Thomas said sadly.

You didn't know what to say so you just looked at your shoes.

_'Your fault.'_ You mentally scolded yourself.

Minho patted Thomas sympathetically on the shoulder and headed towards his car.

You were just about to pursue him when Thomas said the worst possible thing he could've said from behind you.

"I think i'm crazy about you."

You clenched your eyelids shut.

Why did it hurt so much?

Was it because it'd been so long since he said it?

Was it because it further fed the guilt that grew like a garden of poisons in your stomach?

Or was it because you felt the same way and it scared you.

You didn't reply or even turn around, the look on his face would've broke you for good.

You just walked away, something you were so used to doing it was just like writing your first name.

You had to, or would've said "me too", but you couldn't do that to Teresa.

Or to yourself.

* * *

**A/N: So, I am fully aware that this chapter was a bit random.**

**But i am too tired to care.**

**It will all make sense in the next chapter.**

**All in time.**

**Aaand i have no idea why i'm acting so mysterious right now.**

**Okay, i'm going to go.**

**-nightswitch**

**(i changed from timelordXatXhearts, but it's still me, don't fret.)**


	19. Chapter 8: THOMAS (Part 5)

**THOMAS**

**Chapter 8: **Bitter Rivalries, Old Faces, And Rock & Roll

_For Ava_

Modern+Band AU

PART 5

* * *

You know those first two seconds after you just wake up, the seconds immediately after you gain consciousness where you don't even remember who you are or any of your problems or responsibilities?

That kind of blissful temporary ignorance? The seconds when everything was okay even when it wasn't?

That was kinda like when you were with Thomas.

And the moments following those two seconds, when you suddenly remember where you are and who you are and every single time you've screwed up ever?

That was kinda like your life.

It was a black hole of regret.

You were even ignoring texts from Newt; you'd rather sulk in your bedroom then have to stifle a laugh when he'd try and cheer you up.

Punishing yourself by turning into an introverted hermit eased your sorry conscience too.

You would need all the strength you could for Thomas's album release party tonight, so you absorbed it through cat videos on youtube and raw cookie dough.

Y/N, from Running For Grievers, crouched into a fetal position on her bed and staring at her macbook: the media never showed this side of you.

"Cat videos are so much better than boys…" you grumbled to yourself.

But there he was again, in the right corner of your computer screen, a little bundle of pixels wearing a black dress shirt and a black blazer. This was just unfair.

It was a new interview video of Thomas. You couldn't even escape him on the internet.

_'Don't click it. Don't click it.'_

You clicked it with your eyes shut tight.

You peeked one eyelid open tentatively.

Of course the interviewer was from WICKEDstarz TV, their camera men pretty much stalked both you and Thomas.

But Thomas only smiled at the paparazzi, polite as always. You probably would've at least given them the finger.

"Thomas! Thomas!" The reporter called to him in the video. "Being the frontman of The Gladers, how do you feel about the clean-cut Minho dating your rival band Running For Grievers' Y/N?"

His adam's apple bobbed up and down and for a second something like hurt flickered in his eyes.

But the second it was there, it fled.

He shrugged and grinned charismatically.

"Well, personally I think that Y/N deserves better than a goofball like Minho." He scratched the back of his neck, somehow making the crude motion "roguish" and "dazzling".

"So you think she deserves better? Like who?" The reporter shoved the microphone into his face, and he was truly at a loss for words now.

"Uh… I'm sorry, i have to go. It's been a pleasure!" He gave one like short wave to the camera before heading back down the red carpet.

The video ended and the screen went black. When you saw your reflection in it, you almost jumped back.

Scraggly strands of frizzy hair stuck out in every direction and your shirt had several food stains splotching the collar.

Yeah, enough with the seclusion thing, you needed to get your act together before the party.

_'But first,'_ You thought, belly-flopping across your bed in order to reach your cell phone, _'I need to call "my boyfriend".' _

You gagged at the thought.

Minho picked up the second time you rang.

_'Playing hard to get.'_ You thought, rolling your eyes.

"Hey Y/N! How d'ya think the plan is working? You know, with Thomas and everything."

He sounded so unsure, it almost made you doubt your own thoughts.

Well, after watching that interview, it was a little hard to.

"It's working a little too good if you ask me!" You responded confidently. "I just watched a video of him on WICKEDstarz TV, and he said, this is a quote by the way, 'Y/N deserves better than a goofball like Minho.' Pretty good, right?"

You could make out Minho's muffled chuckles on the other end of the phone line.

"Goofball?!" He laughed at last. "That's like Thomas-equivalent to 'shit head'! He's really laying it down!"

You and Minho laughed together for a little bit.

"He really is a nice guy, Y/N." Minho sighed.

You thought about it.

"I know." You said sadly.

He must have heard the change in your voice, because he quickly changed the subject, obviously making a valiant attempt to cheer you up.

"Well, according to Teen Shank! Magazine, you're actually my long lost sister and we're in an abusive relationship where you hit me everyday. So I wouldn't depend on the paparazzi for valid information."

He succeeded in getting a small chuckle out of you.

"I _would_ hit you everyday, you moron! But, really Minho," you continued more solemnly, "How is he? I hope we weren't too harsh on him."

"He's alright, Y/N. I heard him humming your song "Love Is A Maze" while looking at his high school yearbook though. My god, he's like a teenage girl with a crush, it makes me sick."

You glanced at your alarm clock.

_'Holy shit, how can it be 7:21 right now? Thomas's party is at 9:00.'_

"Should i be getting ready like all the other celebrity guests? Or can i just continue to eat cookie dough and wallow in self-loathing?" You accidentally babbled aloud. You slapped your hand across your mouth when you realized you'd said that to Minho.

You usually only talked that honestly around Brenda or Newt.

Luckily he only chortled and responded "Get ready, Y/N. And remember to wear something extra special for Thomas."

"And why should i do that?" You attested, hopping off your bed and padding over to your closet to find that plum-purple dress he'd had sent to your house this morning.

"Because," He sounded weirdly pleased, "Thomas broke up with Teresa. For you of course."

* * *

Even though she'd just been dumped by Thomas this morning, Teresa insisted on going to his party.

Personally, you thought she was just trying to prove a point that she didn't need him.

She'd even said to you that she was a "smoking hot band-babe with a sense of style" who could get anyone she wanted.

But her crimped up, pissed-off-orange, traffic cone colored cocktail dress begged to differ.

The sheer neon sheen of the satin actually kind of offended you.

_'No one would go within 5 feet of you.'_ You thought with a snort, but you agreed on letting her ride in the mustang with you and Marco nonetheless.

Forgiving her made living with her less awkward, you wouldn't have to tiptoe around each other when you both went downstairs to make nachos.

Brenda, much to your relief, ended up coming too. She wasn't talking much to you though, you thought she might've had a thing for Minho before you happened.

Your talents included singing, playing the guitar, and messing up peoples lives.

You promised yourself you'd try and hook it up with her and Minho when this whole 'fake dating' ordeal was done with.

_'And hopefully that is soon.'_ You thought moodily as you followed Brenda into the car, the combined smell of designer perfume and pre-party hard liquor setting your mind into a haze.

* * *

Minho was waiting outside for you before your polish-black mustang even rolled into their circle driveway, crunching on the fine gravel unpleasantly.

Teresa hurried out of the car, unusually bitchy, even for herself.

"Bye Marco!" You called to your driver with a wave, clambering out of the packed backseat ungraciously.

Brenda scurried past when she realized Minho was waiting for you.

You couldn't help but notice his small look of disappointment at her not greeting him.

Yep, you'd _definitely_ have to play match-maker with them afterwards.

You saw Minho leaning on the porch, wagging a finger at you as you tried tugging the hem of your dress downwards.

"What?" You complained, continuing to pull at it and joining him at the entrance.

Dozens of celebrities were walking into the mansion that was booming with music and dancing with watery, colorful lights.

"I bought the dress in a size smaller for a reason, Y/N." He wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned. "Tonight is about you being hot!" He continued, "Not about you being…" Minho crinkled up his nose, trying to find the most non-offensive words to use.

You only stared at him stonily, black painted nails resting on your hips.

"Not about me being _'me'_?" You said.

"Exactly! Wait- no! That's not what i meant-!" He rambled on, but you only laughed and tugged him into the house by the sleeve.

"C'mon Romeo. I get it, wooing women isn't exactly your thing. Just leave that for Newt and Thomas, hun." You patted his back empathetically.

You observed your surroundings.

The boys' house had totally changed since you'd last been there.

The entire feel of it was different, with all the people bobbing their heads to 80s pop-rock music, it seemed less hollow and empty.

The foyer looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope, swimming with disco lights with bits of shimmer here and there to balance out the masculinity of the place.

"Whad'ya think Y/N!" Minho had to shout over the music that was pounding itself into your skull in the good sort of way.

"I'm thinking: Wow! I didn't know Minho could actually throw a cool party!" You responded teasingly.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Now let's find Thomas and sort this all out before things get really out of hand." He said intently.

It was good to know he was as focused on ending this theatrical plan as you were.

But when the both of you stumbled upon the living room, it was clear you'd never find Thomas together.

Somehow the already deafening music got louder, quaking the walls along with the added commotion of the partiers jumping up and down on the floor, red cups held high above their heads.

"WE HAVE TO SPLIT UP!" Minho's face was reddening from the strain of having to yell at someone who was less than a foot away from his face.

"OKAY!" You replied, moving for the TV room as Minho cut through the crowd of scantily dressed bodies.

After a few mumbled "sorry"s and "excuse me"s and bumping into two guys who insisted on "getting you a drink", you were free of the crowd and in the nearly-empty TV room.

The air there hung thick and low, muddled with smoke.

There were about 6 boys: 2 playing pool, 3 lounging on the leather couches with beers in their hands and relaxed expressions, and 1 sitting alone at an unoccupied mini-bar with sad eyes and a guitar in hand.

You sighed before strutting over to him, not really giving a shit about how high your very uncomfortable dress was hiking up your thighs.

"Hey stranger." You said softly, gazing at him in almost a longing way.

Thomas looked up at you and stopped plucking at his guitar strings, alarmed.

"Oh," He said, trying not to sound excited, "Didn't see you there. I didn't think you'd find me here to be honest."

You frowned and sat down at the cold metal bar stool next to him. It was his album release party, he should be up with his bandmates and the other celebrities.

"You hiding from me Brently?"

He grinned shyly, setting down his guitar so he could have an actual conversation with you.

"Maybe… I don't know." He rubbed at the nape of his neck defeatedly.

You gulped.

_'Games over, Y/N. Happy? You won after all.'_ You thought resentfully.

"Why?" You could feel the conversation burning down to the inevitable, eating down to the core of the apple.

Your hands were sweating, braced on your thighs, so your wiped them on your dress, not turning away from Thomas all the while.

Only he could make you like this, not Minho, not Alby Gray, not anybody else.

And how you two used eye contact like wildfire! It was so lovely and so dangerous.

"Because i knew that if i saw you, i'd do something stupid." He admitted shamefully.

He was wearing an all-black tux with a black tie, but he didn't look like someone at the start of a party, he looked like someone at the end of it.

His tie was loosed and hanging around his neck undone, and his hair was unruly and messy like it used to be back when his band was only just starting and he'd play those early mornings at coffee shops, still half-drunk from the night before.

"Do something like what?" You pushed, just wanting to hear him say he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"I don't know," He began, "Start talking about how we 'used to be', tell you how much i love the sound of your laugh,…. kiss you?" When he said that you knew it was all over.

This was it, you were only now in deeper than you'd ever been before.

You'd follow him anywhere.

"Do it then." You murmured without the slightest hesitation. You felt yourself leaning in towards him, but stopped when he didn't lean back.

You felt like you'd been slapped across the face.

"I can't." He explained apologetically when he saw your expression.

You sighed when he took your hands in his, rubbing circles with him thumbs onto your palms.

It'd been so, so long since he'd last done that: too long.

"I love you more than i've loved anything, Y/N…" He paused, "But I could never hurt Minho like that-"

Then, in moment of heat and his lips and love that was unmistakably blind and Thomas, you blurted out the worst possible truth.

"I'm not dating Minho! It's fake! It's all a scam, Tom!" You grinned, eyes welling up with wet blur in relief, but you also felt his hands begin to drop yours limply into your lap.

As an angry gray-black storm came over his face, eyes darkening with betrayal and hurt, a light-gray rain cloud came over yours, meekly pouring down over you.

_'I've ruined everything all over again.' _

_'Yell at me, scream at me, then punch me and kiss me.'_ You pleaded.

"How could you watch me hurt?" He said at last, and your heart thumped painfully like it was kicked by a boot.

"How could you kiss Teresa?" You said spitefully, remembering. "Did her lips taste the same?!"

All the gloomy clouds were singed away with a fiery rain like acid.

He stood and the stool screeched backwards.

The few boys still in the room quickly hurried out.

"Of course they didn't! Not even close, Y/N!" He shouted. Shouting, lately there was always shouting with two of you. "But what did you want me to do? Wait forever!"

"I did!" You cried out in a strange voice of grief and fury that could only be described as exasperated. "I waited years for you, Thomas! I would've waited a hundred more-!"

"You used my best friend to hurt me!"

"You used _my_ best friend to hurt _me_, you idiot!" You yelled back.

"I- just! Ugh!" He brought his hands to his hair, combing it back heatedly. "I can't believe i would've kissed you. I don't even want to look at you right now, Y/N. I never want to see you again."

Your face went slack and you forgot to be angry.

"You don't mean that." You said coldly, wanting for it not to be true.

But by the way he couldn't meet your eyes, you knew it wasn't. Not even a little bit.

You heard the sound of plastic cups clattering to the floor and a side-table being knocked over and directed your attention to the door.

Minho was standing there, looking lost and drunk, but something in his eyes told you he completely sober.

To be frank, you just wanted him to go away.

"What?!" Both you and Thomas shouted at the same time, looking sideways towards Minho irritatedly.

His chest was moving up and down fast, but he wasn't panting.

His hands just hung at his side sort of helplessly.

"Newt stopped taking his medication two months ago." He sputtered out. "He's up on a bridge."

You and Thomas almost rolled your eyes.

It was skydiving last month, desert raving last week, and apparently bungee-jumping this week.

Newt didn't listen to anyone, not the doctors, not his friends, not even his own conscience; so the medication thing wasn't a surprise either.

You hadn't even noticed he wasn't at the party, recently you'd been preoccupied with this whole Thomas-business.

"So what?" You said unperturbedly. "Newt's been doing reckless stuff a lot lately, bungee jumping shouldn't be a shock-"

"Just listen to me!" Minho shouted.

There was something spastic in his movements, something terribly, terribly wrong in his tone.

"He's not bungee jumping goddammit!" Minho's chest was heaving so violently now, and his bottom lip was trembling uncontrollably.

"H-He's gonna kill himself!" Minho's voice cracked and with a sick, bottomless realization his knees gave out and he fell, kneeling on the floor, utterly detached.

_'No.'_

You hadn't realized you'd done so, but you had instinctually reached for and was gripping Thomas's hand, so tight that white crescent moons were imprinted on his knuckles.

_'Oh god.'_ You thought numbly, unable to move with time stopped all around you.

_'Angel-boy is going to commit suicide.'_

**To Be Continued**

* * *

"Lonely lonely little angel

Little soldier oh so graceful,

But when heaven's too white

And the sky is too vast,

Clip off your feathers

And fall too fast.

Choking on your halo,

They'll never hear your cry.

You're falling little angel

Because you tried to fly."

_-Nursery Rhyme _

* * *

**A/N: I'm not-so-good at cliffhangers.**

**Anyhow, this is happening.**

**I hope i foreshadowed enough, so it isn't too much of a shock, and hopefully this will bring Thomas and you together.**

**Will you guys make it in time?**

**I honestly don't know how i'm going to play this out.**

**Only time will tell...**

**-nightswitch**

**(a.k.a. timelordXatXhearts)**

**(P.S. I'm sorry Renn, i'll get your story up as soon as i'm finished with this one! Also Ch. 10 will be the voting chapter [sort of like a season finale?] where you guys will vote for your favorite chapter and the winning one will get either a sequel or a similar story written about the same character. More info on that to come once i'm finished with chapters 8-9.)**


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